


Family Duty

by lsmith7768



Category: Here Come the Brides
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-02
Updated: 2014-08-14
Packaged: 2018-02-07 04:55:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 36,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1885848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lsmith7768/pseuds/lsmith7768
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will the revelations from an old journal tear the town of Seattle apart?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Revelations

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old HCTB story I wrote years ago. Hope it finds some interested readers here.

Chapter 1 - Revelations

Jason Bolt strode down the main street of Seattle, altering his course only to avoid the largest of mud puddles. His day on the mountain had been long and tiring. Most of his days were, but today had taken more energy out of him than usual. Perhaps it was more the date than the day which had sapped him of his energy. He wanted only to get home and relax with a good meal but he had an errand to complete before he could.

 

“Evening, Aaron,” he shouted as he approached the man.

 

In the little yard behind his house, Aaron Stempel, the owner of the biggest sawmill in the area, hefted his ax against a log on the stump he used for splitting wood. Jason couldn’t resist a smile. Aaron just looked so damned awkward compared to the loggers Jason spent his days with, though Jason knew from experience Aaron wasn’t as inefficient with an ax as he first appeared. Many years ago, goaded by a few too many drinks and an incautious remark or two, they’d had a chopping contest. Of course, Jason had won but not quite as easily as he’d assumed he would. Aaron had made him work hard to get that win.

 

“Bolt,” Aaron returned his greeting. Grounding the ax in the stump, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the sweat from his face.

 

“You know, there’re plenty of men around here you could hire to do that.  You're the richest man in town.  You can afford to pay someone else.”

 

“Why should I pay someone to do something I can do myself?”

 

“Admit it, Aaron,” Jason teased. “You’re just too cheap to pay someone else to do it.”

 

“Watch what you’re sayin’, Bolt.” Aaron raised the ax in a mock-threatening manner. “Other than the urge to badger me, what brings you over here this time of day?”

 

“You heard from Thompson yet?”

 

“Yeah. Said he should be here by Monday to look over the operations.”

 

Jason let out his breath in a noisy gust. “You know what this could mean to us, don’t you, Aaron?”

 

“Of _course_ , I know.” Aaron rolled his eyes. “If Thompson decides to give us that logging contract, it’ll make us…or break us.”

 

“Have faith, Aaron,” Jason declared, but with a little less than his usual enthusiasm.

 

“So you say. Now if that uncle of yours doesn’t cause the problems he did the last time he was here….”

 

“Oh, Aaron,” Jason chided his friend, though he winced when he recalled some of Uncle Duncan’s actions on his last visit from Scotland. “It wasn’t that bad.”

 

“He called me a liar,” Aaron replied flatly. “And a thief. And a swindler.”

 

“For which he apologized,” Jason interrupted before Aaron could work himself into a lather with the remembrance. “He was just a little…overly enthusiastic trying to help.”

 

For a moment, Aaron looked like he wanted to continue the harangue, but after a deep breath he nodded. “Just try to keep him out of the way when Thompson’s here.”

 

Slapping his friend on the shoulder, Jason grinned. “It’ll all work out for the best, Aaron, you’ll see.”

 

“I’ll see, all right,” Aaron grimaced, but with a tiny twinkle in his eyes.

 

“Well, I better get home before the boys eat all the food.” Jason started down the trail, waving back over his shoulder. “We’ll meet sometime this week to talk about how we’re going to make the presentation.”

 

Aaron waved back. “All right, Bolt, but don’t make it too late in the week.”

 

 

 

A deafening quiet greeted Jason as he entered the cabin he shared with his two younger brothers. The tantalizing aroma of stew drifted to his nose. He hoped he wasn’t too late to get some.

 

“Anyone home?”

 

“Here,” Uncle Duncan answered from the alcove.

 

“Where’re Josh and Jeremy?” he asked as he lifted the lid from the pot simmering on the stove. Yes! More than enough to fill his stomach.

 

“Jeremy went to the dormitory to visit that pretty girl of his.” Duncan threw a couple of plates at the table. “Joshua is at the apothecary’s, trying to attract that new lass’ attention. I waited to eat with you.”

 

“Thank you, Uncle,” Jason grinned as he ladled out the stew. “I’ve never been very fond of solitary meals.”

 

Jason dug hungrily into the food. Without being asked, Duncan held out a plate with sliced bread. Thanking him with a nod, Jason slathered a slice with butter. He looked up at his uncle when the edge was off his hunger.

 

“How was your day, Uncle?”

 

“Busy. Got your books up to date.”

 

Jason’s chewing slowed. “Uhhh, Uncle…”

 

“Don’t worry, lad,” the older man grinned. “I learned my lesson last time I was here. I did exactly as Joshua instructed me. Freed him up to take a crew to the stand as you wished him to.”

 

“Then it was a day well spent,” Jason returned his grin. “We’ll need that stand if Thompson decides to sign a contract with us.”

 

“Is this Thompson deal what’s been worrying you, lad?”

 

“Worried?” Jason’s eyebrows shot up. “What makes you think I’m worried?”

 

“Perhaps worried is nae the correct word?” Duncan assessed him with a shrewd eye. “The last few days you have seemed rather…melancholy.”

 

Setting down his fork, Jason closed his eyes briefly. He hadn’t spoken to either of his brothers about what he was feeling.  It would only upset them. But Duncan just might be the perfect sounding board. He didn’t have to be the older brother, the leader with Duncan.

 

“Do you know what today is?” he asked softly.

 

“Why, April…” Duncan’s breath caught. “Oh, so that is what is bothering you, lad.”

 

“Father died ten years ago today.”

 

Duncan’s broad shoulders slumped and his head lowered. “I’ll never forget the day we got your letter, telling us what had happened. The only day sadder in my life was when your father left Kilmarron. My heart cried for you three bairns, left all alone so young.”

 

“I was twenty-two,” Jason forced a smile. “Hardly a bairn.”

 

“Aye, but still young to take on the responsibilities of a family.”

 

Jason agreed with a silent nod. When their mother died, they’d had months to adjust to the fact she was dying. It hadn’t made it any easier to lose her but they’d known it was coming. Their father’s death had been quick, unexpected, leaving Jason totally unprepared to raise his brothers.

 

“You miss him,” Duncan guessed.

 

“Yes, I miss him. Some days I’d give anything to hear his voice again. To say, ‘Father, am I doing this right?’” He smiled wistfully. “Even if I wouldn’t always do as he advised, I’d like to be able to ask the questions again.”

 

“Well,” Duncan stroked his beard. “There might be a way to come close.”

 

Jason blinked a question at his uncle.

 

“I know your father kept a journal. Do yea still have them?”

 

“Yes, they’re packed in the cedar chest.”

 

“Have yea read them before?”

 

Tilting his head, Jason played with his fork. “No, I haven’t. Somehow it just seemed too…personal. Almost like I was peeping in a window.”

 

Duncan reached out to tap his hand. “I think perhaps he was writing them for you lads. I know he wouldn’t mind at all if you read them, seeing as you are needing to be close to him.”

 

Turning his hand over, Jason grasped the hand on top of his. “Thank you, Uncle.  That might be just what I need right now.”

 

Giving his nephew’s hand a brief squeeze, Duncan stood. He gathered the now empty plates from the table and tossed them into the wash tub. He winked at Jason, “Leave them for Joshua. It’s his turn tonight and we wouldn’t want to deprive him of the pleasure of cleaning all of the evening’s dishes.”

 

He patted Jason on the shoulder as he crossed to the door. “Now I think I’ll be taking myself out for the evening.”

 

“You don’t have to go, Uncle,” Jason protested.

 

“I know, but I promised a certain lovely saloon owner I would share a drink and a game of cribbage this fine evening. You would nae want me to deprive her of my fine company?”

 

Jason grinned his first real grin of the day. “Of course not. Go, Uncle. I’ll see you in the morning.”

 

With a dashing bow, Duncan swaggered out the door.

 

 

 

Shucked down to his long-underwear bottoms, Jason stretched out on his bed. Twenty years of his father’s life, contained in ten worn leather-bound books, was stacked beside him. Jonathan Bolt began to keep a journal when he and his young bride arrived in America. Jason didn’t know where to start. Picking up a book at random, he began to read.

 

_Our third son was born today. We decided to call him Jeremy. He’s a mite small but healthy.  He’s got more hair than I’ve ever seen on such a little tyke and I think his eyes will be blue like the other two boys. Maddie is also well and pleased with her new son. They are lying together on our bed at this moment. A more beautiful sight I’ll never see._

_Joshua isn’t quite sure of what to make of his baby brother. He’s asking questions I won’t be able to answer until he’s a sight older. Jason’s almighty pleased with the new addition. I think he’s looking forward to holding another little brother in thrall with his tall tales._

A hearty laugh escaped Jason. He remembered Joshua’s incessant questions and his father’s red-faced replies. And he remembered the first time he was allowed to hold his tiny newborn brother. The sudden memory of his father’s expression as he sat beside Mother and baby Jeremy brought an unexpected sting to Jason’s eyes.

 

“I wish you were still here,” he spoke to the ceiling. “Jeremy’s grown into a fine young man. He’s getting married next month to Candy. But you know that, don’t you? I know you and mother are together again and watching over us.”

 

Jason began to flip through the rest of the book, picking out passages about events he remembered the most. He laughed so hard his stomach hurt at times. Other times he choked back the tears. The hours passed without his awareness as he paged through each book in turn.

 

Muscles taut, Jason jerked upright in his bed. He blinked at the passage he’d just read. He read it again, then a third time, trying to deny what his eyes saw. No! This couldn’t possibly be true. He would have known…his father would have told him… But the words, written in a strong hand, taunted him with their reality. The entire foundation on which he’d built his life shook.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

After a long sleepless night, Jason stormed into Aaron Stempel’s office without knocking.

 

“Read this!” Jason demanded, flinging his father’s journal across the desk.

 

Aaron regarded the leather-bound book with suspicion. “What the hell’s this, Bolt?”

 

Jason didn’t think he could find the words to explain the revelation he’d discovered in his father’s journal. “Just read it, Aaron. Then you’ll understand.”

 

“I don’t have time for this,” Aaron grumbled but he opened the journal to the marked page.

 

Jason watched his face carefully, waiting for the moment when Aaron reached the important section. He felt it in his own gut as Aaron’s eyes widened, face losing color beneath the dark tint of his skin. Aaron sat motionless, eyes glued to the page. Then he closed the book almost gently and turned his chair away from Jason.

 

Aaron gave a short, sad laugh. “He finally admitted it.”

 

“All these years and you never said anything!” Jason squalled. “You knew! You knew that my father was your father. That you were a Bolt.”

 

Leaping to his feet, Aaron slammed the journal against his desk. “I’ve _never_ been a Bolt. And I _never_ will be. Your father saw to that.”

 

“Jonathan Bolt was your father, too!” Jason matched him for volume.

 

“He denied it!” A hint of pain showed through Aaron’s fury. “In no uncertain terms. He said it wasn’t possible he could be my father.”

 

“Well, he…” Jason stumbled, trying to find words to defend the indefensible.

 

“He called me a liar,” Aaron ground the words between clenched teeth. “Said I was a blackmailer, that I was only trying to shame his family. Oh God, and all the time…” He thrust the journal in Jason’s face. “All the time he knew I was tellin’ the truth. That he was my father.”

 

Jason closed his eyes against Aaron’s expression. “If you read more…he regretted what he said to you.”

 

“But not enough to tell me to my face,” Aaron sneered.

 

“Aaron, please…you’re my…our…”

 

“And what are you going to do about it now that you know? Welcome me to the family with open arms? Gods, you can’t even say the word.” Aaron laughed caustically. “Admit it, you’re just as appalled as he was that I might be related to you.”

 

Jason was appalled but not for the reason Aaron thought. He’d thought he’d known his father so well. Now he wondered if he’d ever really known him at all. This went directly against the image of the man he’d grown up idolizing.

 

“Not appalled,” he tried to explain. “Shocked. I thought I knew who you were. I thought I knew my father. Now I feel like the whole world’s been turned upside down.”

 

Aaron collapsed back into his chair. “It’s ancient history. Why rake it all up now? What could it possibly accomplish?”

 

“Just pretend I never found out the truth?” Jason shook his head violently. “I can’t do that, Aaron. I know now and I can’t make believe I don’t. You’re my brother and I think we all have to find some way to live with that.”

 

Aaron’s fist thumped down on his desk. “I’ll live my life the way _I_ decide. You Bolts think you own the world. But you don’t own _me_! Have you thought that maybe I don’t _want_ to be a Bolt?”

 

Taken aback by Aaron’s vehemence, Jason asked softly, “You wanted to when you confronted my father, didn’t you?”

 

For a moment, Jason thought Aaron was going to launch himself over the desk at him. With obvious effort, Aaron relaxed his stance and turned his back.

 

“No. I wanted him to take responsibility for what he did to my mother.”

 

“And what was that, Aaron? Besides the obvious?”

 

“Get out of here, Bolt,” Aaron’s voice was strained. “I don’t wanna talk about this any more.”

 

“But, Aaron…”

 

“I said get out.” He shot Jason a look of pure steel. “Before I throw you out.”

 

Sighing in frustration, Jason could see no choice but do what the man said. Getting into a fight with him would accomplish nothing. But Jason knew he wouldn’t be able to let it go.

 

 

 

Jason sat in a quiet corner of Lottie’s watching the bubbles ascend in his beer. Too early for those seeking dinner, the saloon was nearly empty. Perfect for Jason’s present state of mind.

 

All day long he’d tussled with his dilemma. He’d deliberately stayed in camp, taking an inventory of supplies, knowing that with his level of concentration he’d be a danger to himself and others out on the slopes. His brothers had noticed his distraction, but he couldn’t explain, at least not yet. Should they know?  Would they want to know? Would it be better to let it rest with their father?

 

There was Aaron to consider, too. As much as Jason didn’t want it to be true, Aaron was their brother. He deserved to be acknowledged as such. The man had a right to be called family. Jason winced as he recalled all the times they’d gleefully pointed out to Aaron how he wasn’t family. How must he have felt knowing he was but that the right to claim it had been denied him? Why had he said nothing in all the years as they worked their way to a fragile friendship? And why did he want Jason to drop the subject now?

 

Taking a healthy swallow from his mug, Jason mulled over what Aaron had said of why he’d asked for the truth from their father. ‘Take responsibility for what he’d done to my mother.’ What did that mean? Jason didn’t think he’d meant just getting her with child. There was more pain and anger beneath Aaron’s statement than that. Had Jonathan abandoned her when he found out she was pregnant? Jason hoped not; he didn’t want to think his father capable of that. The father he’d known would never consider such a thing.

 

He couldn’t recall, in all the years they’d known each other, Aaron making the slightest mention of his mother.  When Julie was visiting, Jason had heard him say nothing about his mother, not even an inquiry about her health. If she was still alive. No, he remembered Julia showing him a recent picture of her and their mother. The two had been alike as peas in a pod.

 

Jason straightened abruptly. It wasn’t possible that Abigail Stempel - as fair and white-blond as Julie - and Jonathan Bolt - with tawny brown hair and eyes the same blue as Jason’s - could have produced a child with Aaron’s black hair, olive skin and brown eyes. Julie and Aaron couldn’t share the same mother; in fact, they must have no parent in common at all.

 

“Wipe that scowl off your face,” Lottie demanded as she stepped over his long legs. “You’re scaring away my customers.”

 

Jason lifted his head with a half-hearted attempt at a grin. “Sorry, Lottie.”

 

“Thinking deep thoughts?” Sitting down, she pushed a full mug in front of him to replace the one he hadn’t realized he’d emptied.

 

“Oceans deep.”

 

“If I can help…”

 

“Thank you, Lottie,” he patted her hand in gratitude. He tried to think of a way to ask his questions while giving nothing away. “Perhaps you can. Do you know anything about Aaron’s mother?”

 

Her eyes widened. “Heavens, why would you want to know about Aaron’s mother?”

 

He waved his hand vaguely. “Just something he said today. Got me thinking. I’ve known the man almost fifteen years and he knows just about everything about the Bolts, but I have no idea if his mother’s still alive or not. Or even what her name was.”

 

“You know, neither do I.” Lottie leaned back thoughtfully. “I’ve always had the impression that she was dead, but now that you mention it, he’s never said anything one way or the other. He could have been hatched on a hot rock for all he’s ever told anyone. You know what a clam he can be."

 

A reluctant smile curved Jason’s lips. “So he’s never said anything to you, either?”

 

“Nope, not a word.”

 

Silent for a long period, Jason stared at his beer, knowing he would find no answers there. He still had no idea what he should do.

 

“Lottie…” He let his words die. How could he ask what he wanted without Lottie being able to guess what he was talking about? And what if she did? If there was one person in the world, he knew he could trust with his secrets, it was Carlotta Hatfield.

 

“Jason…”

 

“Can I ask you a hypothetical question?”

 

“Fire away.”

 

He took a deep breath to steel himself. “If you had a sister that no one had told you about, would you want to know about her?”

 

She shifted, her alert eyes taking in every nuance of his expression. “Jason?”

 

“Please, Lottie, I can’t explain. Not yet. But this is important. Would you want to know?”

 

Tilting her head back, she gave the question the thought it deserved. “I think I would.”

 

“Even if it meant learning something hurtful about your father?”

 

She smiled ruefully, “I don’t think there’s anything hurtful about my father that I don’t already know.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“Split milk,” she shook her head. “Family’s important, Jason. You believe that as much as any man I know. You can never have too much of it.”

 

 He ran his fingertip round and round the lip of his mug. Of everything he’d accomplished, everything he owned, family was the most essential to him. How could he deny the new member he’d discovered? “What about the other side? Would you want them to know about you?”

 

Pensively, she tapped her fingernail against the table. “You mean if I knew and they didn’t?”

 

He nodded slowly.

 

“Maybe selfishly, but yes. There’s nothing worse than being an outsider to your own family.” Misty blue eyes lifted to his. “I haven’t been in the exact situation you’re talking about, but I’ve been close enough that I wouldn’t wish it on anyone else.”

 

Of all the people in Seattle, Jason understood the situation to which Lottie referred. He was sure she had told no one else about the daughter she’d been forced to give up. Reaching across the table, Jason offered what comfort he could. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Lottie.”

 

Wiping her eyes, she gave his hand a smart slap. “Oh, posh, just an old lady feeling sorry for herself. And I refuse to do it for long. My saloon is no place for sad faces.”

 

“That’s my girl!”

 

“Now you run along and tell whoever you’re gonna tell, whatever you’re gonna tell them,” she said with a sly grin.

 

He rose, more nervous than he’d been in an eternity. “Thank you, Lottie. You know…”

 

Standing with him, she gathered up the empty beer mugs. “Nothing you said will ever be heard by another soul.”

 

“I never thought otherwise,” He leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead. “I knew I could count on you for a warm shoulder and a willing ear.”

 

“It’s part of the job when you own a saloon.” She cracked her dishtowel in his direction. “Now be off with ye!”

 

He scampered out of the saloon, dreading his next task, but with a little lighter heart.

 

 

 

Jason sat through supper with his brothers and uncle feeling as if fire ants had infested his clothing. His skin twitched at the knowledge of what he was about to do. How did someone open up a conversation about something like this? What would his brothers’ reaction be? Forcibly swallowing each mouthful of food, it sat like a fiery lump in his belly.

 

Before he anticipated, the boys stood to clear the table. Jeremy snagged his jacket and headed for the door. “I’m gonna go see Candy.”

 

“Wait!” Jason leaped up from his chair.

 

Obeying his brother’s order, Jeremy stood in the open doorway, mild curiosity on his face.

 

“I…well…it’s just…” The moment of truth upon him, Jason’s courage faltered.

 

“What is up with you today, Jason?” Joshua slapped his shoulder good-naturedly, though concern showed. “You’ve been acting like you’re walking on hot coals all day.”

 

Jason took a deep fortifying breath. “I’ve got something I want to talk to you two about. Could we all sit?”

 

“Jason, if this is something between you and your brothers?” Brow furrowed, Duncan gestured at the door. “I could take myself out.”

 

Jason pulled him back into the room. “No, Uncle, I think you should be part of this. Please, everyone…”

 

Exchanging a bewildered glance, his brothers pulled up chairs and formed a semi-circle around him. Jason sighed at their open, vulnerable expressions. Ordinarily he knew he had a talent with words; he could make them sing and dance at his command. But at this moment, his oratory powers escaped him. He didn’t know where to start.

 

“You know what yesterday was, don’t you?”

 

Jeremy’s brow crinkled, but Joshua answered promptly. “The day Father died.”

 

“Yeah. And I was missing him. Uncle Duncan suggested I read some of his journals.”

 

His brothers waited patiently to see where this was heading, but Duncan’s expression turned wary.

 

“Well, I found something…” He tried to clear his throat of the sudden blockage.

 

“What, Jason?”

 

Snagging his father’s journal from the mantel, he opened it to the proper page. “Maybe it’d be easier if I just read it to you. It’s dated about two months before mother died.”

 

_I had a confrontation today with the boy who’s building the mill. God, I don’t know if I dare to write this down. What if one of the boys, or worse, Maddie reads it? But I have to talk to someone, let this poison inside me out. I’m used to sharing all my secrets with Maddie. But this one I’ve never told her nor can I tell her now. And there’s no one else I trust enough. So this journal will have to serve as my confessor._

The fearful anticipation in his brothers’ eyes vibrated in Jason’s bones. He swallowed hard before he could continue.

_The boy is Miri’s son. My son. There I’ve said it. The boy is my son. I have no doubt his story is true. His age is right. He knows all the right facts. But most of all, I see Miri in his every feature._

“No,” Jeremy exclaimed.

 

“I dinna think he would ever write about it,” Duncan whispered, his face ashy gray.

_Lord forgive me for what I did after he told me. I was in shock and scared and I denied him. Told him I’d never laid eyes on his mother. He reacted as if he anticipated my denial. My heart screamed at that cold, mocking smile. Who raised him to expect rejection as his due?But how could I have done anything else? With Maddie so sick, it would kill her if she knew. I would give my life to keep from causing her shame. I love her so, in spite of how we began._

_But how is it fair to save my family shame at the expense of this boy? My own flesh and blood. He’s done nothing to deserve my lies. He seems to be a decent young man. He’s certainly hardworking. How do I balance what he wants from me against the needs of my family? But he is my family too. What should I do?_

 

Jason’s voice faded into silence. He let his brothers absorb this part of the revelation before he exposed the rest.

 

“W-w-w-e have a younger b-b-b-brother?” Jeremy stammered, his eyes so wide they seemed to encompass his entire face.

 

“Nae, older,” Duncan answered before Jason could open his mouth. “It happened before your mother and father came to America together.”

 

“Duncan, you knew?” Jason had suspected, but he hadn’t been sure.

 

“Aye.” Duncan held up his hand, anticipating their questions. “If Jon had nae told yea, I dinna see it as my place to inform yea. And it was so long ago. More than thirty years.”

 

“Do you know what happened, Uncle?” Jason tried to keep his voice gentle but he was near desperate to hear the whole truth. What little he’d learned from Aaron had only served to confuse him further.

 

Duncan shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “I suppose I know as much of the story as anyone. Only your father or the girl could tell you more.”

 

“Father isn’t here to tell us,” Jason reminded. “And of the girl…I don’t know. We’ll have to depend on you. Knowing only a part of the truth is worse than anything you could tell us.”

 

Rising, Duncan crossed to the cupboard. He took out a bottle of Scotch and four glasses. Handing a glass to each of them, he poured a liberal draught for all.

 

“Occasion seems to call for some fortification,” he smiled wearily. All the brothers agreed and gulped their drinks.

 

His hand whisked over his beard and up into his hair. “You know your father and mother were betrothed very young, do you nae?” At their nods, he continued, “They had known each other their whole lives. Our clans were quite close and our father and hers decided they would be a good match. Jonathan was but seventeen at the time, Maddie fifteen. Perhaps their being so young contributed to what happened.”

 

He sighed, swirled the amber liquid around in his glass. “Your father knew, as the younger son, there would nae be much for him to inherit. He had to find his own way, so nae long after the betrothal, he left for America. To build a life for the two of them in a new land.”

 

They had heard some of this before. Many a long winter night, their father had entertained them with tales of his adventures in a wild new land. Of course, he’d never mentioned a relationship other than the one to their mother.

 

“We only received one or two letters in the years he was gone. Then one day, with nae warning, he returned. With a young woman who carried his babe in her arms.”

 

“Mother must have been devastated,” Joshua breathed.

 

“She never knew. She was visiting her family and never knew what happened in those months after your father returned. I’m sure Jonathan did nae tell her after.”

 

Duncan covered his face with his hands. “Your father wanted to break the contract with your mother and marry this girl. And we just could nae let that happen.”

 

“Why, Uncle? Because the girl was Indian?” Jason guessed. Taking a native bride wasn’t all that uncommon in the area. Was this what Aaron hadn’t wanted to admit? That he was half-Indian?

 

“Aye, she was. Very bright and pretty, but Indian. Jon called her Miri. We just could nae let Jon ruin his life by making such a bad choice for a wife.” He continued defensively, “Besides he would have been banned from the church if he forsook his promised wife.”

 

Jason scowled, torn by loyalty and love for his mother and indignation for that unknown girl who’d borne his father’s child then met rejection based on the color of her skin. He began to understand a little of what lie behind Aaron’s hostility.

 

“What did you do?”

 

“Your father would nae listen to reason. Nothing we said would make him change his disastrous course.” Duncan looked at each of them in turn, his expression faintly shamed. “So we pressured the girl to leave. She truly did love your father and wanted what was best for him.”

 

“What about the child?”

 

“We offered to raise the bairn as a proper Bolt. But she would nae hear of it.”

 

“You wanted to steal her child and send her away like a thief in the night.” Jason tried to keep his voice calm, but he knew his disgust had to be obvious.

 

 We thought it best at the time,” Duncan scowled. “But looking back, I have nae pride in what we did. We were nae fair to your father or the girl.”

 

He rubbed at his beard. “We never heard what happened to the girl and the child after they left.”

 

“She died,” came a rumbling voice.  All heads turned to the dark figure half-hidden in the shadows of the doorway. “She never made it back to her tribe.”

 

“How?” Jason choked into the stunned silence.

 

“Contracted yellow fever crossing the Isthmus.” Aaron stepped into the lamplight, his expression unreadable.

 

“How do you…” “Stempel, what…” Questions tumbled over each other, too quickly to be answered.

 

Duncan held up his hand for quiet. As the babble died, the two men locked gazes, Duncan’s questioning and nervous, Aaron’s intense and challenging.

 

“It’s you,” Duncan whispered. “You’re my brother’s bairn.”

 

Aaron answered with a sharp nod.

 

Shocked eyes appealed to Jason to deny the earth-shaking revelation. His brothers looked like he’d felt when he’d read their father’s journal. Like a stick of dynamite had exploded unexpectedly in their midst.

 

“It’s true.”

 

“No,” Joshua moaned. “Not him. Please, Jason. Anyone but him.”

 

White teeth showed in a feral grin. “Yes, me, boy. Makes your blood curdle to have to claim me as family, doesn’t it?”

 

“It’s not true,” Joshua denied hotly. “Our father would never have done a thing like that.”

 

Aaron took a step closer, towering over the seated Josh. “Well, he did. I’m the living, breathing proof.”

 

Josh lunged to his feet, forcing Aaron to lean away. “I don’t believe it,” he spit in the older man’s face. “And I never will.”

 

Giving Aaron a hard shove, Josh stalked across to his room. Without a word, he slammed the door behind him. In the resounding echo Jason heard the lock slam home.

 

“Oh, God,” he whispered, rubbing an agitated hand across his jaw. He turned to appeal to his youngest brother. “Jeremy?”

 

Hands on his hips, Jeremy shook his downcast head. “I d-d-d-don’t know, J-j-jason. This is j-j-j-just so… I’m g-gonna take a w-w-walk.”

 

“Are you okay?”

 

“I think I w-will be,” Jeremy smiled sadly. “B-b-but its g-g-gonna take some g-g-g-getting used to.”

 

Snagging his jacket, he headed out the door.

 

“You should have left it alone, Bolt!”

 

Before Jason could reply, Aaron marched out in Jeremy’s wake. Leaving Jason and Duncan standing helplessly, wondering what had become of their close-knit family.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

Joshua hurled the first thing his hand contacted across his small bedroom. The resounding thud of the book hitting the wall did nothing to satisfy the need in his soul. With a sweeping arm, he cleared a wall shelf, sending its contents flying. A candle joined the debris. He toppled his desk on its ear.

 

“Damn you,” he shouted. Unsure who he was damning, he vented his rage on the possessions around him.

 

His room in total disarray, he at last slumped down on his bed, physically if not emotionally, exhausted.  It couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t be.

 

As a child, Joshua had idolized his father. In his opinion, there was nothing tall, strong Jonathan Bolt couldn’t do. Beyond a doubt, Jonathan Bolt loved his family and would do anything for them. Joshua had always felt safe and secure in his father’s love. Even when he was grief-stricken by their mother’s death, their father made sure they knew how much they were loved. That man could never have fathered a child outside of wedlock. And for that child to be Aaron Stempel Joshua would never accept. A man like Stempel could never have Bolt blood in his veins.

 

 

Aaron strode away from the Bolt cabin, trying to stomp his anger into the earth below his feet. His pace picking up as if his legs could outdistance his thoughts, he turned onto the Sea Road without even being aware what direction he was going. _Damn him!_ Aaron had finally reached a point in his life where his heritage and past no longer haunted him. Damn Jason for raking it all back up again.

 

Finally his trembling legs and overworked lungs forced him to a halt. He leaned back onto a rock to catch his breath, taking in his surroundings for the first time. He’d walked all the way up to Eagle Point. And now he had a long walk ahead of him to get back home again. In the dark. If he wasn’t very careful he could end up walking off a damned cliff. This was all that Bolt’s fault. Everything bad in his life could be traced back to a Bolt.

 

His breath hissing between his teeth, he settled back against a rock ledge, trying to let the sounds of the sea beneath him soothe his jangled thoughts. He wanted to hate Jason Bolt for what he’d done this evening. God, he’d spent so many years of his life trying to hate Jason and his brothers. For everything they had that would never be his. He’d come close to hate at times, when he would have cheerfully strangled all three of them. But he’d never been able to cross the line. There was just something so undeniably likable about Jason Bolt. Aaron had fought it tooth and nail but somehow in the years they’d known each other they’d become friends. Why Jason had ever wanted to be his friend, he didn’t know. But it had happened. Now the fact that they were truly brothers threatened to rend the friendship apart. Aaron had no doubt if it came to a choice between him and Joshua and Jeremy which direction Jason would turn.

 

Damn it all! Viciously he slung a stone off the edge of the cliff. _I should have known. Damn that Bolt. I should have known he’d tell everyone he knew as soon he found out. Acts like I should be grateful to be called a Bolt! All my life I’ve been told how **grateful** I should be. I wasn’t then and I’m not now!_

 

Abigail Stempel had always made certain Aaron had known what a good deed she was doing by taking in the poor half-Indian boy. What a hardship it was. He was told over and over just how grateful he should be, if only he weren’t too much of a little beast to be appreciative. There was even a hint that it was a good thing his mother had died - so he could be raised as a good Christian instead of a heathen Indian. The lecture always ended with a homily on gratitude, obedience, and humility. That is, how he should daily demonstrate how grateful he was by instant obedience to everything she wanted of him and how he should be properly humble and prove that he knew his place in the scheme of things by groveling before anyone who was his better. Who, in Abigail Stempel’s opinion, was anyone with skin lighter than his own.

 

‘Be good to your mother,’ George Stempel often told young Aaron on the infrequent times he wasn’t out to sea. But Abigail wanted no part of being Aaron’s mother, as she’d proved the few times he’d slipped. Encounters with her wooden spoon had enforced that she was to be called Ma’am or Mrs. Stempel. She’d said it was because calling her Mother was disrespectful to his real mother, but Aaron had known the truth. Abigail wanted no one to think the little half-breed boy could possibly be her own flesh and blood.

 

A harsh chuckle rumbled in his chest as he recalled the foolish fantasies he’d harbored as a boy. He’d dreamed that one day his real father would appear on the doorstep to whisk him away to a better life. Or his mother’s tribe would find and beseech him to join them. Of course, it had never happened and he’d come to the realization that he wasn’t important enough for anyone else to rescue. He’d have to do the rescuing himself. At fifteen, he’d packed the few things Abigail had allowed him to call his own and left.

 

He jerked to his feet. Damn, why was he thinking about all this? It was over, done with, and nothing anyone did now would make a bit of difference. Jonathan Bolt had chosen not to acknowledge him as a son and that could never change. Not now, not ever. Aaron had decided long ago he couldn’t waste his life wishing for something that would never be. Holstering his hands in his pockets, Aaron turned his face to the stiff salt wind. He didn’t need to be Jonathan Bolt’s son or Jason Bolt’s brother. He’d done just fine as Aaron Stempel and that’s who he would stay. He needed no one else.

 

 

 

Jeremy spotted Candy waiting for him on the front porch of the dormitory. She would know something was wrong as soon as she saw him, he realized. He simply wasn’t a good enough actor to cover what he felt. And he didn’t want to, especially not tonight. Briefly he debated whether he should tell her what he’d learned this night. Relating a shameful family secret wasn’t easy. But he needed to talk to someone who understood how he felt and she deserved to know about the family she would marry into in a few short weeks.

 

“You’re late,” Candy scolded with a mock-frown on her face. “I’ve been waiting…” Her frown turned real. “Jeremy, what’s wrong?”

 

He allowed himself a slight grin. If he’d put a bet on her reaction, he’d have won. He held out his hand and she immediately grasped it in her own. “Let’s go for a walk.”

 

“All right.” She circled the railing, never relinquishing her grip on his hand.

 

Thankful she asked no questions, Jeremy steered them away from town. He tried to order his thoughts but how could he, when he felt like his feet no longer touched the ground.

 

Stopping beside a fallen log, Candy pulled him to a seat beside her. “Are you ready to tell me what’s wrong now?”

 

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready,” he whispered.

 

“It’s not about us, is it?” Fear widened her eyes. “About the wedding?”

 

“No!” he rushed to assure her. “We’re fine. At least I hope we will be after you hear what I have to say.”

 

“Jeremy, you’re not making any sense and it’s starting to scare me.”

 

“I’m sorry.” He wrapped her dainty hand in both of his. “I don’t want to scare you.”

 

“Tell me what’s wrong,” she demanded gently.

 

“Tonight, after dinner…Jason, he’d been reading our father’s journal…”

 

“And?”

 

“And…he found something I guess I don’t want to believe.”

 

“Oh,” She raised her hand to rest on the back of his neck. “Something your father did?”

 

“Yeah.” Letting his eyes slide closed, he tilted his head back to better savor her touch. It gave him the courage to say what needed to be said. “He f-f-fathered a child with a woman not our m-m-m-mother before Jason was born.”

 

Her hand tightened convulsively. “Oh, my,” she breathed, her other hand coming up to cover her mouth. “Oh, my goodness.”

 

He nodded, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. “I guess that about says it all.”

 

“What are you going to do?” she questioned after a long moment of trying to absorb what he’d told her. “Are you going to try to find this person? Your father’s child?”

 

Jeremy tensed. The answer to that question was the hardest part of this whole thing. “We don’t have to. He lives here in Seattle.”

 

“Who, Jeremy?” she gasped. “Do I know him?”

 

“Yeah, I think you do.” He could barely bring himself to say the name. “Aaron S-s-s-tempel.”

 

Candy burst into unexpected laughter. Affronted, he dropped her hand. “Th-there’s nothing funny about this.”

 

“Oh, Jeremy,” she giggled. “I thought you were…” Looking into his eyes, her giggles faded. “You can’t mean…You _are_ serious!”

 

“I wish I weren’t.”

 

Clinging to his arm, Candy dropped her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. This is just so…incredible. I thought you were pulling my leg.”

 

“Incredible?” He gave a bark of laughter. “I’ll say.”

 

“Is it true?” She moved her head so she could see his eyes. “Do _you_ believe it’s true?”

 

Relieved that someone was finally asking his opinion, he sighed. “I don’t want to believe it, but it’s true.  I saw the journal, in Father’s handwriting. There’s no way anyone could have faked it.”

 

“Could you have misinterpreted what he wrote?” she asked hopefully. “Maybe he meant something else?”

 

Desperately Jeremy thought back on what Jason had read. Could they have jumped to conclusions? Could they… “No, it was pretty plain. And Uncle Duncan confirmed it.”

 

“Does Mr. Stempel know?”

 

“Yeah.” The story had been no surprise to Stempel, Jeremy belatedly realized. “I think he’s known for a long time.”

 

“How? Why?” She put both hands on her temples, as if with the pressure she could control the tornado of thoughts. “Why didn’t he ever say anything?”

 

“Father, he…” Jeremy choked on his shame, a feeling he never would have associated with his father. “He denied it. He told the truth in his journal, but he told Stempel he couldn’t be his father.” Abruptly Jeremy slammed his hand down on the log, making Candy jump. “That’s the one thing I really can’t understand. He lied! He denied something he damn well knew was the truth!”

 

He blushed when he saw Candy’s eyes widen at his unusual use of profanity. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”

 

“No, I understand. You’re very upset, aren’t you?”

 

“Yeah, I am, but I shouldn’t be taking it out on you.”

 

“You’re not. I know you’re not mad at me. And I know you need to talk about this. So I’m ready to listen to anything you have to say.”

 

His love for this woman swelled in his heart until he didn’t think he could contain it. “I love you.”

 

“I love you, too.” She smiled and coaxed him closer for a kiss. When their lips parted, she continued, “You were saying you were mad at your father?”

 

“The journal said Stempel confronted him not long before Momma died. I guess I can understand why he didn’t say anything then. I was only eight but I remember how sick Momma was in those last few months, how frail. I don’t like that he lied then but I can understand.”

 

“But?” she prompted.

 

“For three years after Momma died, he still kept the secret. Three years, until he died himself, he never said a word.”

 

“Maybe he was ashamed?” Candy ventured.

 

“Maybe he was. But I’ve had to admit to things I was ashamed about before.” He looked up into her sad eyes. “So have you.”

 

She nodded in acknowledgment. Together they remembered when they’d salted Candy’s grandfather’s mine to help fulfill what they thought were a dying man’s dreams. The ensuing chaos had almost ripped Seattle apart. The confession of what they’d done had been one of the most awful moments of Jeremy’s life. He’d hated seeing the disappointment on Jason’s face. But the declaration of guilt, when it was over, had been strangely liberating. They’d been able to stop trying to cover up their misdeeds and deal with the solution.

 

He picked self-consciously at the bark beneath his hand. “I didn’t think I’d ever say this, but I feel awful for Aaron. It wasn’t right the way Father treated him. I can’t imagine how he felt…all these years…knowing what he knew…”

 

“Maybe it explains a lot of things.”

 

“Yeah. Stempel, he was so mad tonight. So was Joshua. I thought they were gonna start throwing punches.”

 

“Oh my,” she breathed. “What are you going to do now?”

 

“I don’t know. I just don’t know.” What was the right thing to do? What plans did Jason have? What would their father have wanted them to do? What did Jeremy want? That was the only answer of which he was sure. Jeremy wanted to go back to the time when he understood the world and the people around him.

 

 

 

Jason sat silently beside his uncle on the empty pier. Waves sloshed against the pilings beneath them in an elemental rhythm. The rising moon glittered off the Sound. Jason tried to let the peacefulness soak into his soul.

 

“Did I do right, Uncle?” Jason leaned his chin into his palms. “Should I have told them?”

 

“It is too late to ask that question, is it nae, lad?” Duncan laughed humorlessly. “It can nae be taken back now.”

 

“No,” he agreed with sadness. “I don’t think this cat can be put back in its bag. Can you tell me something, Uncle?”

 

A hint of wariness narrowed Duncan’s eyes. “Aye’ll try.”

 

“I know how much Father loved Momma. No one could be close to them and not see it. Do you think he loved the other girl, Miri?"

 

Silent for a long moment, Duncan stared out into the murkiness of the Sound. “Is this something you really want to hear, lad?”

 

Jason pondered. “I don’t really want to hear it. But I feel I must. I’ve discovered the picture of our family has gapping holes and I have to find the pieces to make it whole again.”

 

“All right, lad. I’ll tell you what I can.” Both Bolts assumed identical thoughtful poses. “Jonathan loved the girl. I did nae see it then. I did nae want to see it. All of us blinded ourselves with our adherence to tradition. But the way he touched her, spoke to her and of her. Aye, he was a man in love.”

 

Jason’s lip lifted in an unconscious snarl. Like most children, he wanted to believe his parents had never loved anyone other than each other. It hurt to think his father had loved another woman enough to consider leaving his mother, even if they were not yet married. But the other option would have been equally hurtful. If his father hadn’t loved Miri, it would mean his father had taken advantage of a vulnerable young woman with no intention of fulfilling his responsibilities.

 

“If they were so in love, why did father let her come back to America alone?”

 

“He did nae _let_ her.” Duncan stared down at the toes of his boots. “Once we got the girl to agree, we smuggled her away without Jonathan’s knowledge. He was in a grand fury when he found out. If not for the letter the girl left for him, I think he would tracked her to the ends of the earth.”

 

“Letter?” Jason tried to put himself in Miri’s position. A young, scared girl, in a strange land far from her own people, surrounding by her lover’s family who found her inferior and unacceptable. His heart broke for that girl.

 

“I do nae know what it said, but after reading it your father was heartbroken. In his grief we convinced him to fulfill his responsibility by marrying your mother.  Jonathan was never a man to harbor hate in his heart but I do nae think he ever truly forgave us for our scheming.”

 

“How old was Aaron then?” Jason hoped he’d been young enough to be unaffected by the tumult around him.

 

“He was but a babe in arms. I understood he had been born on the voyage to Scotland.” The planks creaked as Duncan shifted. “It’s hard for me to accept they are the same - that smiling bairn and your Mr. Stempel.”

 

“You’re not the only one finding this hard to accept,” Jason smiled ruefully. “So Aaron couldn’t even have been two when his mother died.”

 

Duncan’s head jerked up. “I just recalled. We bought the girl passage on a ship to America. The captain’s name was Stempel. He must have taken the lad in after his mother died.”

 

Jason shivered as a seabird sobbed in the distance. “Despite all the reasons Aaron has to hate the Bolts, we’ve become friends, he and I.”

 

“Truly?” Duncan’s eyebrows rose. “I have heard tales of some very unfriendly dealings Mr. Stempel has had with the Bolt brothers.”

 

“He’s also risked his life to protect the Bolt brothers. Remember when you were here the first time. When he thought we were in trouble, he came looking; even though you’d insulted him in the worst possible way.”

 

“What do you think will happen now, lad?”

 

“I don’t know. Neither Joshua nor Jeremy has ever gotten along with Aaron. And he’s never made any effort to be friendly with them. I don’t know how I’ll go about bringing them together.”

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

Jeremy groaned when the birds outside his window greeted the new day. He thought of pulling the pillow over his head but knew it wouldn’t do any good. Jason would only let him stay in bed until breakfast was on the table. He’d stayed up much too late talking to Candy. And even when he had found his own bed, he’d spent most of the night staring at the ceiling.

 

“Jeremy,” Jason bellowed.

 

“Yeah, I know,” he called back with less volume than his brother. “I’m up.”

 

Fumbling with the pile of clothes on the floor, he pulled out pieces hoping he got them in the proper order. Concentrating on each movement helped to keep all the disturbing feelings at bay. Stomping his foot into his boot, he stood up to face the day.

 

“Mornin’,” Jason greeted as he came out of his room.

 

“Mornin’,” he returned, scanning the room. “Where’s Josh?”

 

“He was already gone when I got up this morning.”

 

Grimacing, Jeremy met Jason’s sad eyes. “You think he’s still mad?”

 

“Who knows?” Palms against the back of his chair, Jason leaned heavily forward. “It’s pretty obvious he doesn’t want to talk to us, though.”

 

“I guess I can understand that.” Jeremy chewed the inside of his cheek. “This isn’t easy.”

 

“I know. How are _you_ doing this morning?”

 

“Confused,” Jeremy confessed.  He squirmed under Jason’s intense blue eyes. He didn’t know if he could explain. Jason was the one who was good with words, not him. “It’s so strange. Aaron Stempel’s still the same man we knew yesterday, and yet he’s not. We’re still the same family we were, but we’re not.”

 

“Is our father the man we thought we knew?” Jason added quietly.

 

Jeremy nodded in silent agreement.

 

Jason spread his arms in an expansive shrug. “I don’t have any answers. I’m just as confused as you are. But I _do_ know I want to keep our family together.”

 

“All of it?” Jeremy held his breath as he waited for the answer.

 

“Yes.” Jason straightened and faced him directly. Jeremy knew Jason would do whatever he thought right no matter what his brothers said. But beneath that hint of defiance, Jeremy could see how badly his older brother wanted him to agree.

 

“I’ve never liked him,” he stated baldly.

 

“I know.”

 

“I don’t know that I ever will.”

 

“But you’ve managed to build a working relationship with him.” There was almost a plea in Jason’s voice. “Maybe you can build a family relationship too.”

 

Hands on his hips, Jeremy’s eyes wandered up to the ceiling. How did a person ever know the right thing to do? He gave a reluctant snort of laughter. “All right, Jason. We’ll try it your way. But I want you to know right now, I draw the line at living in the same house with Aaron Stempel.”

 

Jason exploded with startled glee. Thumping his brother on the back, Jason began throwing breakfast on the table, a new bounce in his step. Jeremy hoped Jason knew convincing the other two wouldn’t be nearly as easy. The sparks would fly when Jason’s irresistible force met Stempel’s immovable object.

 

 

 

Aaron dragged his feet up the path from his house toward Lottie’s. Sleep had been a long time coming the previous night, even with the help of a healthy draught of brandy. What he needed was a good meal in his belly, then he’d feel like facing the day. Now he felt more like crawling back in bed and wishing the rest of the world would go away. But Aaron Stempel was made of sterner stuff than that. He hoped.

 

The clop of horse’s hooves caused him to slide off the path to the edge of the woods. He wasn’t trying to hide, he told himself, but only one group would be heading this way at this time of the morning and he didn’t want to meet them.

 

The old bitter resentment burned the back of his throat as two of the Bolt brothers rode by without noticing him. Always together, while he stood on the outside, alone. He and his mother so easily replaced. Damn! He’d thought he’d worked his way past this feeling. Other men needed the assistance of family. Not him. Alone, he’d made something of his life. Alone, he’d made his mill a success. He hadn’t needed the Bolt name or any Bolt help. And he never would.

 

Then why did it still gnaw at his belly when he saw them together?

 

 

 

Hunkered against a tree in the far corner of camp, Joshua attacked his ax with the sharpening stone. None of the other loggers had approached him since his arrival before dawn; the scowl on his face warned them away. Unsure what he wanted or needed, he held himself apart from the others.

 

“It’s a nice morning.” Jeremy appeared beside him.

 

Josh shrugged, not taking his eyes off the axhead.

 

“You weren’t at the cabin for breakfast.  Cookie said you didn’t eat with the rest of the crew either.”

 

“You’re not my mother,” Josh snapped. He softened his voice at Jeremy’s wince. “I’m just not hungry.”

 

“Can’t work all day without eating.”

 

Josh knew that making sure his belly was full wasn’t what had brought Jeremy to his lonely tree. “Jeremy, what are you really here for?”

 

Jeremy settled on the ground beside him. Their shoulders touching, they both leaned back against the same tree. “I just wanted to make sure you were all right. You were pretty upset last night.”

 

“Weren’t you?” Staring straight ahead, Josh was glad he didn’t have to look into his brother’s blue eyes, which reminded him entirely too much of his father’s.

 

“Yeah, I was.” Bouncing a pebble in his hand, Jeremy squinted at Josh out of the corner of his eye. “I’m still all mixed up. I thought maybe it would help if we talked about it together.”

 

“Jason send you?” Josh snorted.

 

“Nope. Thought of it all on my own.”

 

“Well, there’s nothing to talk about.” Josh clenched his hands around the shaft of the ax to stop their shaking. “I’m never gonna believe Aaron Stempel is our half-brother and that’s it.”

 

Sighing, Jeremy tossed his pebble away. “I didn’t want to believe it either.”

 

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to. I said I wouldn’t. Not ever!” Lurching to his feet, Josh started to stalk away. He didn't want to talk about this, not to anyone.

 

“Josh, how can you say that?” Jeremy grabbed his arm to prevent his escape. “It was all right there in our father’s journal.”

 

“Could have been faked!”

 

“In Father’s handwriting?” Jeremy snorted in derision. “Or maybe you think Stempel held a gun to Father’s head and forced him to write it?”

 

Knowing how ridiculous it sounded, Josh flushed hot. “Our father would never have made a baby with another woman when he was engaged to our mother! Not with an Indian woman. He wasn’t that kind of man.”

 

“I wish…but we can’t wish away the truth, can we? I hate the idea too, but…”

 

“But nothing! It didn’t happen!”

 

“Oh, but it did,” a gentle baritone voice intruded. “Our father’s own voice is telling us from the grave.”

 

“No, Jason,” Josh moaned in anguish.

 

“Our father made a mistake. And his family in Scotland compounded the error.” Jason laid a hand on both of his brothers’ shoulders. “It’s up to us to make amends.”

 

Josh shook off the hand. “Not with _that_ man!”

 

“That’s what really has you upset, isn’t it, Joshua? That it’s Aaron Stempel.”

 

“God, Jason, how many times has he cheated us?” Josh tried to make his brother see sense. To see how ludicrous it was to think Aaron Stempel could be even part Bolt. “Tried dirty tricks to steal our mountain? Lied to us? How can I accept a man like that as our brother?”

 

“And he caught you with a trick, didn’t he?” Jason’s gaze trapped him, seeing far more than Josh wanted him to see.

 

“Yes!” he shouted. It wasn’t _the_ reason he was angry, but it would due for the moment. It was better than digging deep enough to find the true reason. “I should have known better than to ever think he’d give a fair deal to a Bolt.”

 

“You should have known better than to sign a contract without locking in a fair price,” Jeremy countered.

 

“So it was all _my_ fault?” Josh whirled fiercely on his youngest brother. “Why are you taking _his_ side?”

 

“I’m not.” Jeremy raised his hands in peace, but stood his ground.

 

“Sounds like it to me.” The memory of the incident still stung. “He made me look like a fool in front of the whole town.”

 

“No, he made you look inexperienced and too eager to show me up,” Jason assured him.

 

Josh realized with a shock that they were drawing a crowd. Half a dozen loggers loitered within earshot, trying to look like they were working. Damn, that was all they needed. It would only take one and their dirty laundry would be aired all over town. Jason noticed them at the same time.

 

“What are you men doing?” he bellowed. “The trees are up on the mountain.  We pay you to chop them down, not stand around gawking.”

 

Most sheepish, though Josh could see a couple of surly faces, the men moved off up the mountain. Jason reached for him but Josh evaded the effort. His anger flared, threatening to consume him and everyone around him.

 

“Jason, there will never be room for that half-breed bastard at my table.” No amount of Jason’s considerable powers of persuasion could make him feel any different. He stalked off to join the rest of the crew.

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The red-head’s ax bit into the cedar with unusual vigor. In the three years Emmett Clark had worked for the Bolts, his reputation consisted more of getting drunk and starting fights than of hard work. But now great chunks of wood flew with each of his swings. The enormous tree shuddered under his assault then wobbled. With savage satisfaction, the logger stepped back to watch it fall.

 

“Hey, Red.” Nearly a full head shorter than his partner, Billy reached up to slap his shoulder. “Take a break. Keep working like this and you’re gonna drop like that tree.”

 

George, another of Red’s few friends, carried over a pail of fresh water. “Yeah, slow down. You bucking for a raise or something? I never seen you work this hard.”

 

Rinsing his dry mouth with the first dipper of water, Red spat it on the ground. “I keep thinking about what Bolt said about Mr. High-and-Mighty-millowner.”

 

“Oh,” Billy scratched at his sweat-soaked shirt. “Think that’s really true? That Stempel’s part injun?”

 

“Didn’t sound like they was making it up. But what do you care, Red?”

 

“It burns me. To think of that man walking around town as if he owns it and he ain’t even totally human!”

 

“I’ve heard some rumors, Red,” George smirked. “That Stempel ain’t the only one might be part injun. That maybe your nickname wasn’t from the color of your hair?”

 

“That’s a damned lie!”

 

George failed to see the fury on Red’s reaction. “Heard tales that your gramma liked Sioux bucks.”

 

Whirling, Red seized the faller’s bicep hard enough to bruise, his other arm cocked back to strike. “Take it back! My grandmother was a fine lady and there’s nothing injun about me.”

 

George jerked his arm away. “Lay off, Red. Just saying what I heard. Didn’t say I believed it.”

 

“Seems to me you ain’t got no reason to defend Stempel,” Red continued to glare. “Seems I remember you carrying on about how Mary Kate was the girl for you. Well, all Fancy Suit had to do was crook his finger and your girl left you laying in the dust.”

 

“Never carried on about her,” George grumbled. “All she wanted was someone to spend money on her.”

 

Red rubbed in the salt. “Took her to one dance and she’s still mooning over him. She doesn’t have time for a good man like my friend, George. Think about that half-breed putting his hands on your woman. Turns your stomach, doesn’t it?”

 

“What you got planned, Red?” Billy asked. He had nothing personal against injuns in general or Stempel in particular, but any excuse for trouble was enough for him.

 

“I think we should go explain to Mr. Stempel how we feel.”

 

 

 

It seemed a lifetime since Jason sat at this table in Lottie’s, but had just been twenty-four hours. Enough time for a family to begin pulling apart. Scattered around the room were a half-dozen loggers and mill-workers. In the corner, alone, Joshua stared morosely into his whiskey glass. Jason stared just as morosely at the checkerboard in front of him.

 

“Your move, lad,” Duncan reminded him.

 

“I know. If only I could see a good direction to move.”

 

Duncan stole a glance at Joshua. “Give him time. It does nae look like now is a good time to push him."

 

Jason felt like screaming his frustration but forced his volume down. “He’s so angry and I’m not sure why. And if I can’t figure it out, how can I fight it?”

 

“Perhaps now is the time to listen, not fight,” Lottie leaned over his shoulder and whispered in his ear.

 

“Aw, wise Lottie.” Reaching up, Jason pressed her hand to his lips then guided her to sit beside him. “Very good advice, but advice I’m afraid I’m not adept at heeding.”

 

“Never too old to learn, Jason,” she smiled, sending a sidelong glance at Duncan. “I take it all is not well in the Bolt household.”

 

“What would give you that idea, Lottie?” Jason tried to grin.

 

She threw a pointed glance at the far table. “Well, one Bolt is in the corner drinking his dinner. The youngest is scuffing around with his bride-to-be, looking like a kicked puppy. And you haven’t made but three moves on the checkerboard since you started. Now why would I ever think the Bolts were troubled?” She reached out to still Jason’s fidgeting hands. “Does this have anything to do with what we talked about last night?”

 

Sighing, Jason tipped his chair back on two legs. “Yes.”

 

“And some people didn’t take what you had to tell them very well,” she guessed. “Is there anything I can to do help?”

 

A female scream wrenched everyone to their feet.

 

“That’s Candy!”

 

A mass of humanity boiled out of Lottie’s. Frantically, Jason searched for the source of the screams. All up and down the street, heads cranked this way and that. Abruptly Candy stumbled around the corner.

 

“Jason,” she bawled, darting toward them. “Hurry! They’re gonna kill him!”

 

 

 

Aaron paused for a moment at the fork of the path and pondered. Should he turn to his left and his house or continue up the path to Lottie’s? His house offered peace and quiet while at Lottie’s there were bound to be Bolts. Still, hunger gnawed at his belly. He knew himself to be no great shakes as a cook nor did he enjoy cooking. At Lottie’s he could get a filling meal within minutes. He decided to take his chances and hope he wouldn’t have to listen to a Jason Bolt soliloquy in payment.

 

Without warning, a rough shove sent him crashing into the side of Ben’s store. Before he could regain his balance, a second thrust moved him deeper into the corridor between Ben’s and the apothecary’s. Only grabbing onto the rainspout kept him on his feet.

 

“What the hell!” He whirled on his assailant.

 

“What makes you think you can walk down a white man’s street, breed?” A tall red-haired man Aaron vaguely recognized as a Bolt logger spat. The man’s two companions slid on either side of him with evil grins.

 

Fear and rage roared through Aaron’s veins. From bitter experience, he knew what came next. They planned on giving him a beating. How bad a beating was up to him. For an instant he thought to deny the charge of having Indian blood. But the only way they could possibly have found out was from the Bolts. In fact, one of the Bolts had probably set this whole thing up. It would do him no good to deny it. Besides, he’d never lied about his heritage in the past and he wasn’t about to begin now.

 

“I’ll walk wherever I damn well please,” he growled.

 

When Red opened his mouth to reply, Aaron lashed out. Pain jolted up his arm as he connected solidly with Red’s jaw. Ignoring the pain, he sidestepped, just barely avoiding Mustache’s wild punch. A quick left lacked the power to drop Shorty but it backed him off enough to allow Aaron to maneuver away. If he let them get behind him, he was in serious trouble. Hell, he was in serious trouble even if they didn’t get behind him. He never once considered yelling for help.

 

Neither fast nor flashy as a fighter, Aaron knew his strengths. If he could stay on his feet he could possibly inflict enough damage to make the men tire of their game. He may take two blows for every one he landed, but these cowards would never see him on his knees. The strategy had seen him though more than one encounter like this in his youth.

 

Red lunged in, driving his shoulder into Aaron’s midsection. Aaron turned enough so their momentum crashed them into the wall instead of the ground. If he let them get him on the ground, he was dead. The air whooshed out of his lungs at the impact. Before he caught his breath, instinct sent his fists seeking targets.  A short uppercut knocked Red away but Shorty’s punch smashed his lips against his teeth. Mustache snagged his coat sleeve. Before he could escape the hold, Shorty pinned his other arm to the wall.

 

“Now you’re gonna pay for that, breed!” Red snarled.

 

 

 

“Get help!” Jeremy yelled at Candy as he plunged into the melee, hardly taking note of the combatants. Obediently, she raced down the street.

 

If the battle had been one on one, Jeremy would have waited for help. But three men ganged up against one was more than he could bear, no matter what the reasons. Driving in, he hit the shortest fighter around the hips, tumbling both of them to the ground. Unfortunately, Jeremy ended up at the bottom of the pile, grunting as an elbow dug into his ribs. They tussled in the mud, each trying to gain an advantage.

 

“Billy,” he gasped in surprise as he recognized the logger.

 

“Stay out of this, Bolt.” Billy drove a knee in Jeremy’s already bruised ribs. Billy tried to get back into the fray but Jeremy managed to snag his ankle, dropping him back on the ground.

 

“Damn you,” Billy snarled.

 

Jeremy jerked his head back just in time to avoid the boot whisking by his nose. Suddenly, other hands grasped Billy, wrenching him from the ground. Jeremy let his breath out. Help had arrived. Jeremy scrambled back up to his feet.

 

Harve held the struggling Billy against the wall. Jason, Joshua and Ken dragged the rest of the combatants apart. Jeremy identified two more Bolt loggers as they were pulled free from the fight. Aaron Stempel stood at the center of the skirmish, blood from his nose and torn lip dripping down onto his once pristine white shirt.

 

“C’mon, Red,” Stempel snarled. “You want a piece of me? C’mon then!” He struggled furiously against the firm hold Jason had around his shoulders. “Damned coward. Scared to go against me without your pack of coyotes.”

 

“Aaron, calm down,” Jason ordered, barely avoiding a flying elbow.

 

“Any time, injun!” Red barked back, but he didn’t fight against Josh and Ken’s grip.

 

“What’s this all about?” Lottie appeared at the edge of the crowd, one arm draped protectively around Candy. Immediately, Candy detached herself and hurried to Jeremy’s side.

 

“Are you all right?” she whispered, worried eyes scanning up and down his body.

 

“I’m fine,” he assured her. “A little bruised but fine.”

 

“Thank goodness.” She plopped a quick kiss on his cheek. “What happened?”

 

He shrugged his confusion. “Looks like Red, Billy and George were trying to beat up Stempel.  Don’t know why yet.”

 

“Damned half-breed tryin’ to pass for white!” Red’s shout rose about their whispered conversation. “Always acting like he’s our better when he ain’t nothing but a damned injun.”

 

“Oh, no,” Jeremy groaned. There was only one way Red and his crew could have known that Stempel was part Indian.

 

“Aaron?” Lottie turned startled eyes to Stempel. Candy’s eyes echoed the same startled confusion. “Jeremy?”

 

The mill-owner lunged against Jason’s grip. “Let go, Bolt!”

 

Using his own momentum, Jason spun him against the wall. “Stop it, Aaron.”

 

Jason held Stempel firmly and turned to the three culprits. “You three. Get your gear and clear out. You’re fired. I don’t ever want to see any of you in this territory again.”

 

“Aw, Jason,” Billy started to whine but Red cut him off. “C’mon. We don’t need their damned jobs. Not in this town.”

 

Red shook off the restraining hands. Josh and Ken stepped away but kept a cautious eye on the three men. Harve shoved Billy toward his companions. When they were well on their way, Jason turned loose of Stempel.

 

“I’m sorry, Aaron,” Jason started, sliding his hand from Aaron’s shoulder to his neck.

 

Aaron slapped away the hand. “Keep your hands off me, Bolt. Don’t you think I know who sent them after me?”

 

“We did not!” Jeremy protested.

 

“How else would they have known? And if they’d jumped anyone else, they’d be in jail right now, not just fired.” Aaron spat scarlet on Jason’s boots. “It’s a good thing to know I can always count on my _family_ lookin’ out for me.”

 

“Aaron, listen, I didn’t arrest them because…”

 

“No!” He backed away from Jason’s reaching hand. “I’ve had enough of your fancy words, _brother._ Now just let me alone.”

 

Jason took a half step after him as he stalked off, then halted. Joshua kicked at the ground, his fair skin bright, though Jeremy couldn’t tell if anger or shame caused the flush. The rest of the crowd shuffled in the background uncertainly, not knowing what to make of the hostilities.

 

“All right, everyone,” Jason windmilled his arms at the crowd. “Thank you for the help, but it’s all over now. Time to go home.”

 

They broke up reluctantly, trailing off in small groups, the buzz of rumor already starting. Lottie tugged on Jason’s sleeve.

 

“It’s him?” Her eyebrows climbed into her bangs. “My lord, Jason. I never would have guessed, but its Aaron you were talking about, isn’t it?”

 

“Yes,” Jason whispered. “Aaron’s our half-brother.”

 

“Oh my sweet Lord.”

 

Jeremy approached them warily. “Jason, m-maybe you oughta go check on him. Make sure he’s not hurt b-b-bad. This _is_ kinda our fault, even though not the way he thinks.”

 

“Yeah, I should.” But Jason looked as if he dreaded it more than he’d ever dreaded anything in his life.

 

“I’ll do it, Jason,” Lottie insisted, ever practical. “He won’t throw things at me. That is, if I give him a few minutes to calm down before I go over there.”

 

“Thank you, Lottie,” Jason leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. “I’ll be along in a little while. I’ve got an idea of something that might help.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

Aaron stomped into his house, slamming the door so hard behind him the walls rattled. The need to give vent to his rage sent him storming across the room. A kick to a delicate table crumbled it and the bric-a-brac it had displayed into a messy heap on the floor. Ugly junk, he thought as he pitched a statuette into the fireplace. _Surrounded by hideous clutter because my own sister thinks she needs to civilize me. But then she’s not really my sister, is she? I have a sister who’s not and three brothers who would just as soon see me dead. Which leaves me where I’ve always been._

Aaron took a large gulp of brandy, not even bothering to pour it in a glass. It stung his cut lip but he still savored the burn down his throat and into his empty stomach. Another swallow followed the first. He didn’t want to think. He didn’t want to feel. The brandy helped curb the urge to do both.

He slouched down in his favorite leather chair. _Half-breed_! The words echoed through his brain. He took another swallow of brandy to drown it out. He wasn’t ashamed of his heritage. He wasn’t! He’d never kept it a secret. He rarely even thought about it. He’d never told anyone because they’d never asked. And what the hell business was it of anyone else’s anyway? Being part Indian didn’t make him less of a man. He’d proved that over and over again.

The warmth from the brandy began to spread through his veins. He added another swallow to help it along, ignoring the tang of blood in his mouth. Half-breed. Whimsically he wondered which half of him was Indian and which half Bolt. Was he divided top and bottom? Or was the right side Bolt and the left Dwamish? Reaching up, he pushed an errant lock of hair back off his forehead. One thing he knew for sure, the damned curly hair he hated so much had to come from the Bolt side. His coloring was, of course, from his mother’s side. But what about the inside? Could pieces of his personality be traced to one side or the other, like the color of his eyes or the curl in his hair? Or was he just Aaron? Was he simply what his experiences had made of him?

Four firm knocks reverberated at his door. He considered who it could be. Not Jason - that man pounded, he never just knocked. Who else would they send after him? Lottie, it had to be Lottie. He’d let no one else in his house right now, and they had to know it. Oh, Lottie - she had a special place in his heart, although he didn’t think he’d ever find it in himself to tell her so.

Pushing himself up, he paused as surge of lightheadedness hit him. _Better slow up on the booze or you’re gonna pay for it in the morning._ Another spate of knocks sounded before he felt steady on his feet again. He concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other as he made his way to the door.

As he’d suspected, Lottie stood on his porch when he opened his door. She had the box holding her medical supplies tucked under her arm.

“I’m fine,” he answered the question he knew was foremost on her mind.

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?” She shouldered him aside and walked in his house.

An instant of irritation eased into resigned amusement. “Why don’t you come in?”

Fluttering her eyelashes at him, she threw him bright grin. “Why, thank you, Aaron. I think I will.”

Leaving the door open for propriety’s sake, he followed her to the table. “I really am fine, Lottie.”

She gestured him to sit down. “Well, let me take a look anyway. You know I’ll just worry until I’m sure you’re all right.”

With a sigh of surrender, he sat. Tilting his head up, she stared intently into his eyes. She seemed to be satisfied with what she saw there. Quick fingers roamed through his hair searching for lumps. He closed his eyes at the feelings those fingers induced, the deep craving they elicited. He ducked his head away, uncomfortable with the closeness.

“See.” His grin turned into a wince as he stretched his split lip.

“Yes, I see very well.” She pulled a bottle from her box and soaked a piece of cloth with the liquid in it. Without warning, she pressed the cloth against his lip.

“Ouch!” He tried to jerk away but her other hand held his head steady. “Hey!”

“Men! Not a whimper when three guys are beating on them but let a woman try to clean them up and they start to fuss. Just hold still and let me get this bleeding stopped. Unless you enjoy the taste of blood.”

With a wrinkling of his nose, he subsided. Efficiently she packed another cloth inside his mouth, clucking in sympathy as she did. He eyed her warily as she pulled back.

“Now take off your shirt so I can see the rest of the damage.”

“Oh, no.” He clutched at his collar.

“Oh, c’mon, Aaron, I’ve seen you without a shirt before.”

“When?!”

“When you got shot,” she reminded him. “Oh, but you weren’t conscious then so you wouldn’t remember. I guess that doesn’t count. But there was the time you were attacked by ‘Bigfoot’. You remember that, don’t you?”

Unfortunately, he did. “I still had my shirt on,” he protested.

“Shreds.” She gave him a teasing pat on the cheek. “All you had on were shreds and let me tell you, they didn’t hide anything. I rather enjoyed the view.”

“Lottie!”

“I’m sorry, Aaron, but you should see your face right now,” she giggled.

“I didn’t let you in my house so you could make fun of me. I’ve had enough of that today.” He started to get to his feet but he was just unsteady enough that she easily forced him back down.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” She tipped his chin up so he would meet her eyes. “I wasn’t making fun of you. Just teasing. And only because I care.”

The last of his fury swept away in the wave of her sincere affection. He let it soak into his bruised spirit. It scared him how good it felt. Bunching his shoulders around his ears, he dropped his head. “Yeah,” was the only thing he could think to say.

“All right,” Lottie relented, not just on her demand that he take off his shirt. “As long as you swear you’re not hiding any broken ribs under there.”

“Nothing broken,” he assured her. “Bruises, that’s all.”

“Now let me see your hands.” She rolled her eyes at his scowl. “I know you, Aaron. You probably broke a couple of knuckles on their thick skulls.”

“I tried,” he acknowledged with a crooked grin.

He flattened his hands on the table. He hadn’t noticed how tender they were until now. Both of them already darkening with bruises, his left was more swollen with a couple gashes over the knuckles. He hoped the three bushwackers’ faces looked worse.

“Is it true, Aaron?” Lottie asked in a hushed voice as she bathed the blood from his hand.

He didn’t bother to pretend he didn’t know what she was talking about. “That I’m half-Indian? It’s true.”

“Pshaw!” she waved with indifference. “What do I care about that? I mean about you and Jonathan.”

“Why don’t you ask Bolt? He’s telling everyone else in town.”

“Cause I’m asking _you_.” She dabbed salve over his knuckles. “Now you can tell me it’s none of my business. That’s your right and your decision. But I care about you, Aaron. And I care about the Bolt brothers. I want to do whatever I can to help. All of you.”

He took another slug of brandy in an attempt to mute the confusion of feelings welling up in him. Lottie had always tried to stay neutral in the squabbles between him and the Bolt brothers. Oh, she let him know when she thought he’d stepped over the line, but he knew he was always welcome in her place. Would she turn from him now? But, God, someone who wasn’t intimately affected by all this might help balance the equation again.

“Jonathan Bolt was my father,” he said, his voice hoarse and strained.

She drew in a sharp breath then let it out slowly. “I thought I was prepared for that answer. Oh, Lord. How did you find out?”

He rubbed wearily at his brow. He’d never talked about any of this before. He wasn’t sure he should now but the warmth of the liquor flowing through him loosened his tongue. “I’ve known my father’s name since I was old enough to read.”

“Oh, Aaron,” she gasped. Her brow furrowed, she rubbed his knuckles absently. “Is that why you came to Seattle? Looking for your father?”

“No, I had no idea he’d be here. Took me completely by surprise to find him.” A chuff of laughter escaped him. All the years of searching had yielded nothing, then when he’d shifted the object of his search, the man showed up right under his nose. “My mother’s tribe lived near here. I wanted to…I don’t know…”

“Find some connection to her?” Lottie offered gently.

He shrugged. “I wasn’t even two when she died.”

“If you’ve…I don’t understand…why this trouble now?”

“Because I’m the one who just found out.” Jason Bolt intoned behind him.

Damn. Leaving the door open invited all manner of vermin into the house. “I didn’t invite you in, Bolt.”

 

Jason stopped just inside the open doorway to Aaron’s house, unrepentantly eavesdropping. It might be the only way he would hear any of Aaron’s feelings. He hoped the contents of the decanter of brandy in front of Aaron and Lottie’s nonjudgmental presence would help Aaron open up. But Jason knew if he didn’t announce his arrival soon, he would only stoke Aaron’s justifiable anger.

“Because I’m the one who just found out.”

“I didn’t invite you in, Bolt.”

“I’m sorry, Aaron.” Jason shuffled his feet and twisted the books in his hands. “I’m sorry for barging into your house. I’m sorry that men who worked for me tried to beat you up because of something they overheard my brothers talking about. I’m sorry for every wrong done to you by the Bolt family.”

“I don’t want your damned apologies,” Aaron grunted.

“What the hell do you want, Aaron?” Jason ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “I just don’t understand. I only want to rectify an injustice my father committed against you and you act like I’m trying to destroy your life.”

“No, you don’t understand,” Aaron sighed. “Sit down and listen to me for a minute.” He waited for Jason to settle himself. “George Stempel was never a shining example of a father. He was at sea for months at a stretch and didn’t spend a lot of time wondering how we would survive while he was gone. He never said he loved me. He never called me son.” Aaron pushed himself forward, locking eyes with Jason. “But he publicly gave me his name even though I was no blood of his. When he was sick he asked for me and I was holding his hand when he died.

“Jonathan Bolt might have been a wonderful father to you. But when I suggested he might be my sire, he spat in my face, even though he knew it was so. He never showed the slightest interest in the fate of my mother or what my life might have been like. The only thing he was concerned about was the scandal I might cause.

“Now you tell me, which man earned the title of father?”

Jason leaned his chin into his hands, not able to think of a single word to refute Aaron’s argument. He could only speak from the heart, as he always had. “I’m not asking you to forget what George Stempel did for you. But don’t push us away because you’re afraid we’ll reject you like our father did.”

A violent shiver ran through Aaron’s frame. “I’m _not_ afraid!”

Silently watchful, Lottie shifted until her shoulder pressed against Aaron’s. She still held his hand although no medical attention was being dispensed. Jason was a little surprised when Aaron didn’t pull away. He reached to lay his own hand over their entwined fingers.

“If you truly want me to leave this at rest with our father, I’ll try,” Jason promised solemnly. “But I think it’s gone too far for that, Aaron. I want to make amends for what my father did. I know he would have wanted it that way.”

“Ha!” Aaron sneered, snatching his hand away. “He wanted it exactly the way it was.”

“That’s not true.” Jason pushed his father’s journals across the table. “He regretted what he said to you. He worried-”

“No!” Aaron jumped up so quickly his chair crashed to the floor behind him. “He never spent one minute worryin’ about me or my mother. We were just a mistake he wanted to forget about.”

“If you’d read the journals, you’d see that wasn’t true. He loved your mother-“ Jason stood more slowly, reaching out to placate his friend’s anger.

“Shut up, Bolt!”

“I can’t. I can’t just let this go!” In spite of his intentions, Jason’s voice rose to a shout.

“Why the hell is this so important to you?” Aaron turned back to him, honest confusion on his broad features. “What do you stand to gain?”

“A brother.”

Aaron shook his head back and forth, his disbelief obvious. “You don’t want to claim me as a brother.”

“It doesn’t really matter if I want to or not.” Taking the journal from the table, Jason took a step closer. “You _are_ my brother. That’s a fact no one can deny.”

Aaron grinned sardonically. “So you admit you don’t want to claim me?”

“Damn it, Aaron.” Jason slapped his hands together in frustration. “Don’t put words in my mouth.” He turned away, taking a deep breath to gather control. “I’m not offering you pity or charity, Aaron. I only want to give you your due. What you have a right to.”

Aaron’s grin grew wolfish. “Even if that includes a piece of your precious mountain?”

Jason couldn’t contain his gasp. The mountain!? Aaron Stempel own a piece of Bridal Veil? Never! Opening his mouth to say exactly that, he closed it abruptly. That reaction was exactly what Aaron was aiming for. Unexpectedly, he wondered if a lot of Aaron’s determination to win Bridal Veil had come from the knowledge he’d kept concealed.

“Aaron, I’m not gonna fight with you.” Ignoring the snort that got him, he laid his father’s journals gently on the table. “I’m going to leave these here. I can’t make you read them, but I think you’ll be the one to benefit if you do.”

Offering his hand, he helped Lottie to her feet. Sending a regretful glance at Aaron’s hunched shoulders, he headed for the door.

“Jason,” Aaron’s soft voice called him back. “Just a minute.”

He stared fiercely into Jason’s eyes, looking for what Jason didn’t know. Then with a sharp nod to himself, he strode across the room into his bedroom. In just a moment, he returned, a book in his hand. He held it out to Jason. Bound in well-kept deerskin, the book was obviously old and well read. Hesitantly, Jason accepted it.

“My mother’s diary,” Aaron explained in a strained voice. “You want me to learn about your father, then you should learn about my mother. See things from her side.”

Jason looked down in awe at the delicate tome. A breathtaking gift, one he’d never expected from Aaron. “I’ll make sure nothing happens to it,” he promised in his most solemn voice.

“You better,” Aaron growled. He sank down in his chair with a groan. “Now get out of here. I’ve had enough of the Bolt brothers for one day.”

 

Joshua leaned his chair back against the wall of the cabin he shared with his brothers. His pose looked relaxed but he was as far from relaxed as a man could be. The gathering gloom of evening matched the darkness in his heart. How could everything go so wrong so quickly with so little warning?

He’d never meant for any harm to come to Aaron Stempel. Oh, there’d been lots of times he’d badly wanted to plant his fist in the middle of the man’s smirking grin. There might yet come a day when he’d do it. But if there was punching to do, he’d do it himself; he had no need to call in a bunch of coyotes.

And the reason they’d set on Stempel raised the gorge in the back of his throat. Half-breed. Of all of Stempel’s devious plots and condescending attitudes, his heritage was the one thing Josh couldn’t hold against him. Joshua hated bigotry of any kind, but he had to admit he’d used the words himself. Practically shouted it in the middle of the camp. It took no guesswork to figure out how Red and his cronies learned of Aaron’s ancestry.

Groaning, Josh leaned back until his head thumped against the wall. Just what he needed, a layer of guilt added to the already complex swirl of emotions inside him. He shuddered. Why was Jason forcing this on them? There was no way they would ever be one big happy family. Stempel seemed as dead set against it as Joshua. Oh, God, why did it have to be him? Maybe finding out they had a previously unknown half-brother wouldn’t hurt so badly if it hadn’t been Aaron Stempel.

Josh scrubbed wearily at his face as he heard the unmistakable tread of his oldest brother. The last thing he wanted to listen to was Jason pontificating about family and responsibility. It was all Jason’s fault in the first place. Why did he have to read that damned journal?

To his great surprise, Jason gave him a slight nod of acknowledgment then leaned silently on the wall beside him. So silent, Josh could hear both of them breathing in a syncopated rhythm. He squirmed in the stillness. He’d hoped Jason would volunteer the information he needed, but it looked like his brother was going to force him to ask.

Josh coughed to clear his throat of the huskiness he knew would be there. “How’s Stempel?”

“Oh, he’ll be fine,” Jason waved vaguely, his eyes focused on something only he could see. “A split lip and some bruises. Nothing that won’t heal. Physically, that is.”

“It wasn’t my fault!” Josh burst. “I didn’t tell them to jump Stempel!”

“Not intentional.”

Josh subsided, turning his palms up on the chair’s arms. “But if it hadn’t been for me blowing off in camp…”

Jason slid down the wall until their eyes were level. “I know you never meant for this to happen, but some of the responsibility falls on Bolt shoulders.”

“I won’t apologize. Not to _that_ man.”

“You do what you think right, Joshua.”

The mildness in Jason’s voice made Josh feel even worse. He knew what was right, but why did it feel like it would destroy a part of his soul to do it?

“I think you should read this,” Jason held a book out to him.

Instinctively, he flinched away. “What is it? Not more of Father’s journal, is it?”

Jason extended the book closer. “No. It belonged to Aaron’s mother. It’s her diary.”

Josh made to push the diary away, though he desperately didn’t want to touch it. “No.”

“You know, I think it might be the only thing Aaron still has that belonged to her,” Jason mused as he swiveled the slim volume in front of his face.

“Why should I care?” Josh replied with feigned indifference.

Jason continued as if Josh hadn’t spoken, “It must be very precious to him, yet he trusted me with it. Why do you think he did that?”

“I don’t know! Why would I know why that man does anything? Maybe it’s just an attempt to make us feel guilty.”

Still ignoring him, Jason opened the book to the first page and started reading.

_I am not sure how to start. Jon says I should write a diary. He says it will help me get better english and be history for our child. I laugh and say it will also give me something to do while we must live aboard this great canoe._

_I am on a great adventure. Adventure, I hope, but I have never been more than a day’s journey from my home and tribe before. Even though we have been joined by the ceremony of my people, Jon says we must go back to the land of his birth to be joined before his Gods. I am afeared. I try not to show this to Jon. I want to be strong for him. For the child growing in my belly. It is hard. Please, Spirits of my fathers, help me be worthy of him._

“Enough!” Josh lurched upright. “It’s not true!” He covered his ears with trembling hands.

“Josh…” Closing the book, Jason reached out an imploring hand.

Dodging, Josh retreated as quickly as his unsteady legs allowed. “No! Jason…I…damn it…No!”

He ran with the futile hope of leaving all the fear and anger raging inside him behind.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

For two days and two nights, Jonathan Bolt’s journals lay on the mantel of Aaron’s fireplace untouched. They both tempted and repelled Aaron. He didn’t want to know what the man who denied his fatherhood had to say. Yet he craved the knowledge. And hated himself for the weakness.

 

For two days, he fought the battle within himself. _I don’t need to know. I don’t **want** to know. If I read those books I’m just inviting Bolt to kick me in the teeth again. He’s dead. He can’t touch me if I don’t let him._

_I wonder what he thought of me. I wonder if he even thought of me at all. He must have or Jason would never have given them to me to read._

He threw down his pen in disgust. He didn’t care what that man thought. He wouldn’t _allow_ himself to care. But the books drew him, teased him with their mystery. Every minute he was in the house, they beckoned to him. He wasn’t going to read them. He wasn’t!

 

Very late the second night, Aaron picked up the journal of Jonathan Bolt.

 

 

 

For two days and nights, Miri’s diary lay on the bookshelf in the Bolt cabin untouched. It both tempted and repelled Joshua. He didn’t want to know what the woman had to say. Her words could only be lies. Their father had never strayed from their mother. It just hadn’t happened.

 

For two days, he fought the battle within himself. _She used our father’s name in her diary. What if it’s all true? No, I can’t believe that. If I don’t read that diary, I won’t have to believe it._

_Did she love him? Did he love her? Could Aaron really be my brother?_

He threw down his pen in disgust. He would never accept Aaron Stempel as his brother. Or that his father had made that momentous of a mistake. But the diary drew him, teased him with its mystery. Every minute he was in the house, it beckoned to him. He wasn’t going to read it. He wasn’t!

 

Very late the second night, Joshua picked up the diary of Miri.

 

 

 

Aaron flipped through pages of the fragile journal. Passages flashed by his eyes, passages about Bolt’s journey to America with his new wife. His wife. Aaron had only met Madeline Bolt once. She’d already been quite sick by the time he’d arrived in Seattle. As badly as Aaron had wanted to resent her, he hadn’t been able to find it in himself to bear ill will to the fragile mother. In her presence he’d found himself wanting…no, he wouldn’t delve back into those ludicrous childhood fantasies.

 

The name of his mother’s tribe captured his attention as he turned pages.

 

Met a Dwamish hunting party this afternoon. Young boys, wary of the white man in their midst. They warmed when I was able to speak some in their language. Showing off a bit, I must admit. They shared the rabbits they’d caught with me. A fine afternoon meal.

_Though it made me feel like I was being unfaithful to Maddie, I couldn’t refrain from asking about her. Thoughts of her and the child have torn at me since I set foot on this land again. What did I feel when they told me there was no woman with a half-white son in their tribe? Relief? Could I resist temptation if I did see her? Could I face her again after what I allowed to happen? I have never thought of myself as cowardly, but the thought of seeing hatred in those eyes shrivels a piece of my soul. But mixed in the relief is bitter disappointment. Just to see them again, to make sure they are well, would be worth whatever loathing she could heap on me._

_Perhaps its better if I stay out of their lives. Miri made it very plain in her letter she wanted nothing more to do with the white man’s world. What could I give her but more pain? But to see my son, oh Lord. He was four last October. Where is he? Would he understand how much I regret not being there to watch him grow? How much I love him? Hardly a day goes by that I don’t think of my lost son._

Aaron snatched at the brandy glass beside him. Without drinking he pressed the cool glass against his brow. Emotions he didn’t want to identify roiled through him. Had Bolt truly cared or were the words just to soothe his own conscience? And what difference could it truly make?

 

Rolling his head from side to side, Aaron tried to release the tension in his shoulders. Just close the damned thing, he told himself. _Jason only gave the journals to you because he knew what torture it would be to read them. Close all of the Bolts out of your life once and for all_. But he couldn’t leave it be. The obsession he’d raged against and reveled in most of his life had control of him now.

 

 

 

Joshua opened to the first page of the diary. Large, childish printing sloped across the page. Josh felt a slight flush of superiority. Quite learned, his own mother read classic tales to them every night until she became too sick. This girl could barely write her own name.

 

The flush turned to one of embarrassment. Why should the girl write well in English? What schools would she have gone to? Who was he to make such a judgment? And did he only make it because he knew this was Stempel’s mother writing?

 

He skimmed through the first few pages. She spoke of long days in an unfamiliar environment. Against his will, Josh felt some kinship to this unmet woman. He remembered days on the voyage around the Horn back from New Bedford that had seemed endless. Days he’d thought he’d go insane from boredom. How much worse would it have been if there had been no family around him and everyone spoke an alien language?

 

On almost every page he turned the name Jon stood out. Obviously her Jon was an important person in her life. Josh wouldn’t let himself think further than that. Shuffling a few pages further, he started to read.

 

_My time is getting close. When we reach land, Jon thinks it good if we stay until the babe is born. This lightens my heart some, but I still long to be back with the women who have been birthing babies in my tribe for more seasons than I have been alive. But I cannot let fear make me regret this journey. Jon promised in the ceremony that he would always provide for me and I must trust that promise._

_What will you be like, child of my love? Will you have blue eyes like your father? Oh, I do love his eyes. Will you be a girl who will steal her father’s heart with her smile? Or a boy for Jon to teach the ways of the forest? I think you boy for you are strong and active inside of me. I love to watch the smile on Jon’s face when he feels you move. Already he loves you even before you’ve met._

Joshua snatched at the glass of whiskey beside him. Without drinking he pressed the cool glass against his brow. Emotions he didn’t want to identify roiled through him. This woman meant nothing to him. What he felt he would have felt for any woman in her situation.

 

Rolling his head from side to side, Joshua tried to release the tension in his shoulders. Just close the damned thing, he told himself. _Stempel only gave this diary to Jason because he knew what torture it would be to read it._ But he couldn’t leave it be. This young woman’s voice demanded to be heard.

 

 

 

_I took Jason with me today when I went to negotiate a contract with the boy’s mill._

Boy, Aaron snorted. The man couldn’t even call him by his name. Aaron used the appellation constantly when talking to the younger Bolt brothers, basically because he knew how much it irritated them. He delighted in the clenched fists and expressions he could elicit. Did Jonathan Bolt know that one day he would be reading this journal? Did Bolt delight in discounting him the way he did the Bolt sons?

 

_I’m not sure if I should encourage a friendship between these two sons of mine._

Aaron scowled at the page. After calling him boy as if he were a stray gutter rat, in the next sentence, Bolt acknowledged him as son. What did the man really think of him? He didn’t really care, he told himself; but he continued reading.

 

_It’s dangerous to let the boy get too close. What would stop him from telling Jason the truth? The boy gives no hint that we might be related as he faces off with us across that big desk of his. But I know Jason. He has a way of making people want to confide in him. Would Jason still love me in that openhearted way of his if he knew the truth?_

_But to be able to - if not talk to the boy - then to hear of him regularly, I would give most anything I own. There are so many things I want to know of him. And of Miri. If only Maddie weren’t so sick, I would accept the consequences of my past mistakes and find a way to bring the boy into my family._

Sure you would have, Aaron sneered at the page. A man could write whatever made him feel better about himself on a sheet of paper. He’d had plenty of chances after Mrs. Bolt died to ‘accept the consequences of past mistakes’, but he’d done nothing. That’s all Aaron was to the man - a past mistake best forgotten.

 

_I let Jason do most of the talking today. Good experience for him and I could always step in if things started to go bad. It was an unexpected joy to watch the boys negotiate. They are like fire and ice, these two; though I suspect there is more fire beneath the boy’s cool exterior than he exposes. Though he doesn’t have Jason’s glib tongue, he more than held his own. He even seemed to be enjoying their competition as much as Jason._

_What man could ask for more? To have sons such as these? Intelligent, strong, industrious sons. Oh, Miri, are you as proud of this young man we made together as I am at this moment?_

Aaron erupted from his chair. _How dare he!_ The journal crashed into the far wall, perilously close to the fireplace.  _How dare he be proud of me!_ Jonathan Bolt had had nothing to do with who Aaron Stempel was. Regardless of what Bolt called him, he’d been man grown when they first laid eyes on each other. On his own for years by then, Aaron had shaped his own life. How could Bolt claim to be proud of something he’d had nothing to do with?

 

 _But isn’t this what you always wanted_ , a traitorous voice deep within him whispered _. Someone to be proud of you?_ How many times as a child had he sustained himself with the love apparent in his mother’s diary and the idea that somewhere there was a father who would love him if only he could find that father? A hurt built in Aaron’s throat. Those idiotic expectations had only made it worse when Jonathan Bolt not only denied any tender feelings for his son, but also denied Aaron’s very existence.

 

Badly tempted to kick the journal into the fire and be done with this torment, Aaron clutched the mantel with both hands. Even with his white-knuckled grip, he could still see his confusion reflected in his hands’ appalling tremor. He wouldn’t be swayed by any man’s opinion of him. Good or bad. Bolt’s opinion meant nothing. Nothing!

 

The journal was in his hands again before he knew he intended to pick it up.

 

 

 

_Our son was born this morning._

Joshua stared at the line. The writing had improved since the beginning of the diary, but he took little notice. He squinted, trying to imagine Aaron Stempel as a baby. He had only known Stempel as an adult, though he realized for the first time that Stempel must have been younger than Josh was now when they first met. At Josh’s present age, Stempel had had his own growing business and had built the biggest house in Seattle. All Josh had done…he squelched the thought.

 

_Our strong, beautiful son. Every mother thinks their child beautiful, but I can not help but believe our son is more beautiful than most. Jon is so happy. He stands outside announcing to every person who walks by that he has a new son. One would think he were the first man to ever father a child._

No, Joshua wagged his head slowly back and forth. This couldn’t be his father. His father had never even looked at a woman other than his mother. His father _couldn’t_ have loved another woman. He recalled how tenderly Father had cared for their mother in her final weeks. They’d been deeply in love; he was sure of it. So far he’d seen no proof that the Jon this woman loved was his father.

 

_Jon says we will stay here until the next moon. I and the babe should be strong enough then to continue our journey to the land of the Scot. He says we will wait until we reach the land of his birth to have his people’s ritual to name our child. When our child is older, he will choose a name according to the customs of my people. We have talked about the name our child will called now. I think he should be named after his father but Jon says no. Jon says he should have his own name, a strong name. I think Jonathan Gordon Bolt is a strong enough name for both my men._

Joshua erupted from his chair. No! His arm cocked back to hurl this book of lies into the fire where it belonged. _No! No! No!_ Abruptly, he collapsed back, the hand still holding the diary covering his face. How could he deny it now? This diary, Uncle Duncan, even his father’s own words pointed to only one thing. The one thing Joshua needed so desperately to reject.

 

Everything he’d believed about his father, his mother, even what he’d believed about himself now lay in shambles around his feet. Unconsciously, he began rocking, a moan rattling in his throat.

 

The diary opened again before he knew he intended to continue reading.

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Candy stood on the dormitory porch, dressed in her Sunday best. Stopping at the corner of the square, Jeremy took the opportunity to just look at her. The morning sun added a golden halo to her hair and gilded her fair skin. Lord. To think in less than two weeks this woman would be his wife! There were times he couldn’t believe his good luck.

 

“Jeremy,” Candy startled when she saw him. “What are you doing just standing there?”

 

Putting his feet in motion again, he walked over to lean on the porch rail. “Watching you.”

 

Blushing, she touched her fingers to her lips. “Oh, Jeremy, why would you want to do that?”

 

“Cause you’re so pretty.”

 

Her blush deepened.

 

“And I was thinking of what it’ll be like to see that pretty face every morning for the rest of my life.”

 

Raising her head, she looked directly into his eyes. “And how do you feel about that?”

 

“So happy, sometimes I think I’ll burst with it.” Laughing aloud, he vaulted over the railing.

 

Giggling, she pulled him close and confided, “So am I. I can hardly wait until we’re Mr. and Mrs. Bolt.”

 

“May I escort you to church, soon-to-be Mrs. Bolt?”

 

Candy took his proffered arm. “Of course, Mr. Bolt.”

 

Jeremy nodded a greeting as some of the brides exited the dormitory to wait for their own beaus. He clasped Candy’s hand in his and together they joined the other congregation members strolling toward church.

 

“How’s Joshua?”

 

Jeremy grimaced at Candy’s question. “Not good. He’s hardly talking to us. He’s not sleeping much either. Mostly he just growls like a sore-pawed bear.”

 

“Has Jason tried talking to him?”

 

“I think Jason’s letting him stew for awhile. Trying to push Josh now will just make him more stubborn.”

 

She gave him a teasing slap on the arm. “Like some other Bolts I know.”

 

“Yeah,” he grinned. “Jason can be pretty stubborn too.”

 

“While you’ve never been stubborn about anything.”

 

He  pretended to consider the question. “Nope. Don’t think so.”

 

“Oh, Jeremy,” she giggled. Jeremy laughed with her, admiring the sparkle in her eyes.

 

“Watch out, boy.”

 

His attention all for Candy, Jeremy had lost track of everything else around him. The deep voice dragged him back to his surroundings. He skidded to a halt just in time to avoid walking into Aaron Stempel.

 

“Sorry,” Jeremy mumbled, taking a step back. Beside him, Candy dropped into a curtsey. “Good morning, Mr. Stempel.”

 

Wearing one of his big-city suits, Stempel might be freshly shaved and neatly groomed but he didn’t look much improved over the way he had right after the beating. Although his lower lip had resumed its normal shape, the bruises had progressed to that awful yellowish-green stage. Dark smudges under red-rimmed eyes didn’t enhance the image he presented.

 

“Bolt, Miss Pruitt,” Stempel barely acknowledged them.

 

“Beautiful morning…” Turning, Stempel stalked up the church steps. Candy continued in a tiny voice, “…isn’t it? Jeremy, I don’t think Josh is the only one who’s acting like grumpy old bear.”

 

Jeremy wiped a hand over his face. “This just keeps getting worse, doesn’t it?”

 

“I know this sounds selfish…well, it is selfish…but I think a girl deserves to be a little selfish when it’s this close…”

 

“Candy.” He held his index finger to her lips. “Just say it.”

 

“This won’t affect our wedding, will it?”

 

“No!” he stated emphatically. “I’ve waited too long…we’ve waited too long already. One week from Saturday you and I are going to be married and nothing is going to stand in our way.”

 

Sharing their determination, they both gave sharp nods, then followed Stempel into the church.

 

 

 

Jason snagged Lottie as soon as the church service ended. He’d thought he could handle the situation by himself, but it seemed to be going from bad to worse. He needed someone to talk to who had no stake in the outcome, who had the best interests of all the participants at heart. Lottie didn’t look at all surprised when he pulled her aside.

 

“Lottie, could you spare me a minute?”

 

She took a long and careful appraisal of him. “Why don’t we go over to my place? Looks like what you want to say will take more than a minute.”

 

“Thank you, Lottie.”

 

As they walked in silence toward the saloon, Jason tried to frame the dilemma in his mind. Each for reasons Jason couldn’t really fathom, Aaron and Joshua were dead-set against fetching Aaron into the Bolt fold. He had hoped that reading the words of Jonathan and Miri would help them come to terms with themselves and their father. But Josh only grew further apart from his brothers and Aaron…damn Aaron refused to even speak to him.

 

Lottie led him into her private dining room. Pouring each of them a cup of coffee, she sat down next to him. “What is it you want to talk about, as if I can’t guess?”

 

His hand came down on the table with enough force to rattle the china. “I don’t know what I’m going to do, Lottie. Everything’s falling apart.”

 

Reaching over to the sideboard, she took a bottle of whiskey and poured a healthy jolt into his cup. “I think you need to calm down a touch.”

 

“How can I be calm?” he appealed, but he took a gulp of the whiskey-laced coffee. Under Lottie’s watchful eye, he took a deep breath, then blew it out in a noisy sigh.

 

“Better?” She lifted a questioning eyebrow.

 

“A little,” he admitted. “I’m just not used to feeling so…”

 

“Helpless?”

 

“Out of control.”

 

“And that’s a scary feeling for a man like you.”

 

They both sat staring into their coffee. He was scared but he’d been scared before and always had been able to find a way out. Now his best efforts only seemed to make the situation worse.

 

Lottie broke the silence first. “Jason, what is it that you’re really trying to accomplish?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“What’s the goal? What end result do you want?”

 

“I want all my brothers to be a family together.” He frowned at the obviousness of the question. “You know, in spite of everything, I’ve always respected Aaron Stempel. Oh, I enjoy rubbing his fur the wrong way. But even with all his attempts at our mountain, I could never hate him. Maybe because there were times when he allowed that wall of his to slip a little. Let me see the man he could be, if he let himself. I’d admire to call that man my brother. Why won’t he let me!?”

 

“Trust you, Jason, to take something that could be answered in one sentence and turn it into a speech.” With a chuckle, Lottie got up to refill their cups. In spite of the seriousness of what he felt, Jason had to chuckle himself. He’d been accused of loving the sound of his own voice before.

 

Seating herself again, Lottie took his hand in both of hers. “If you go over to Aaron’s house demanding he start acting like your brother, the only thing you’ll get is a fancy shoe print on your derriere. And he’ll slap another layer on the wall that keeps everyone else out. He’s as scared as you are right now. And scared things run or fight. I don’t think you want him to do either.”

 

Cupping his chin, he leaned his elbow onto the table. Lottie made a lot of sense. Maybe he had been pushing both Aaron and Joshua too hard. “So what should I do?”

 

“Go gently, sweetheart. I know it goes against your nature, but take things slow. You can’t change how people believe and feel overnight.”

 

“But I need to do something,” his voice rose. “I can’t just sit back…”

 

“I’m not saying you should.” Lottie kept her own tone soft and soothing. “But as much as I’ve been tempted to try it myself, knocking heads together isn’t going to work. Slow and gentle is the key.”

 

“Slow and gentle,” he repeated skeptically.

 

“Invite Aaron over for Sunday dinner. Include him in family occasions. Offer him brotherhood with an open hand.”

 

“Like coaxing a dog that’s turned wild to accept food,” Jason mused. Aaron probably wouldn’t have liked the analogy but it resonated with Jason. A stray dog, starved for what was offered, but unable to trust enough to take it. Only patience and persistence would turn the animal into a friend.

 

“What about Joshua?”

 

“Just don’t make it hard for him change his mind. He’s as proud as you are. Give him a way to gracefully back down.”

 

“I should have known all this,” Jason admitted ruefully. “But…”

 

“It’s hard when its your own family.” Lottie patted his shoulder as she picked the cups from the table. “You get too close and can’t see the forest for the trees.”

 

He grinned. His innate optimism leaped to the fore. Nothing was too big for a Bolt to tackle. Not even another Bolt.

 

 

 

Even though he had all the windows open, Aaron’s office felt close and stifling. A cool spring breeze ruffled the papers on his desk but did nothing to relieve the oppression. In spite of what most of the town thought, Aaron didn’t normally work on Sunday. After church and a good meal at Lottie’s, Sunday was reserved for the small household chores he didn’t feel comfortable asking his housekeeper to do. He also liked to spend those few hours of leisure he allowed himself engrossed in one of the many volumes of classic literature he kept in his study.

 

Today, reading was the last thing he wanted to do. He’d done entirely too much reading in the past few nights. And what good had it done him? Before all this had started, he’d been sure of himself and where he stood, now he felt like an rudderless ship, lost and adrift.

 

So he’d sought refuge in the one place he knew he still had control. He’d built the mill from nothing, most of it with his own hands. His parentage didn’t matter in the mill. Here he was the boss.

 

Today, being in his treasured mill helped to ease his discomfort not at all. Normally he could lose himself in the book of figures, could see those figures satisfying his plans and his plans fulfilling his dreams. Now they were only blurred scribbles on the page.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a movement on the trail to his office. He groaned as he identified the intruder to his sanctuary. Bolt! Would he never be free of that man? He rubbed his burning eyes. He tried to summon up the anger that had helped protect him from Jason’s persuasion in the past but he hadn’t the energy. Exhaustion weighed his limbs and dulled his mind.

 

“Afternoon, Aaron,” Jason greeted, his voice unusually soft, almost gentle.

 

 “Bolt.” Aaron refused to look at the logger.

 

“I stopped by your house. You don’t usually work on Sunday.” Jason eased into the office.

 

He grunted in response. A little surprised that Jason would notice when he worked, he reluctantly acknowledged that, of everyone in town, the logger knew him best. There were times when Jason seemed to understand what drove him better than he did himself.

 

“I…well…we….”

 

“Spit it out.” The hesitancy wasn’t like Bolt at all. The bold logger could outtalk the very devil.

 

“Well, Aaron, I just wanted to invite you to Sunday dinner.”

 

Dropping his head, he pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. “What is it you want from me?” he moaned. “Haven’t you gotten your pound of flesh yet?”

 

“What pound of flesh?” Jason leaned on his desk, twisting to attempt to see his face. “I’m only talking about a meal here, Aaron.”

 

“I’m talkin’ about siccing your loggers on me.” Aaron knew in his gut Jason had nothing to do with the attack but at the moment he was willing to say almost anything to get Jason out of his office.

 

“We didn’t-“

 

Rising to his feet, Aaron kept talking over Jason’s increasing volume. “I’m talkin’ about those damn journals. You’ll never let me forget, will you? You just couldn’t resist rubbing my face in it, could you?”

 

He clamped his mouth shut, embarrassed by how much he’d revealed. To cover, he stomped to the coffeepot warming on the stove. Pouring himself a cup, he frowned at the visible ripples in what should have been the smooth surface of the liquid.

 

“Open hand,” Jason muttered almost inaudibly. “Have patience.”

 

“What the hell you talkin’ about?” Aaron jerked around, irritated by himself and Bolt.

 

Jason started, as if he hadn’t meant for Aaron to hear. Raising his head, he looked directly into Aaron’s eyes. Aaron resisted the urge to squirm under that bright, sincere gaze.

 

“I’ve never meant to hurt you, Aaron.” Aaron snorted but Jason ignored him. “I’m not trying to hurt you now. I’m offering you a simple invitation to dinner. It’s not like you’ve never eaten a meal with us before.”

 

He slammed the cup back down on the stove. A single stride took him toe-to-toe with Bolt. “I don’t wanna eat with any Bolts. If it weren’t for business, I wouldn’t wanna talk to any Bolts. If I could find a way to avoid it, I wouldn’t come within a hundred yards of a Bolt. Is that clear enough for you?”

 

“Excuse me, gentlemen.”

 

Both men whirled toward the intruder. A tall, well-built man stood outside the open door. His blue uniform and insignia identified him as a colonel in the US Army. Aaron had never seen the man before but he knew who he had to be. Colonel Amos Thompson, the man who would give the final approval to the biggest contract Seattle had ever seen.

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Pulling up the collar of his jacket against the misting rain, Joshua tried to appear attentive as Jason laid out the plans for the day to Colonel Thompson. They should have started preparations for the colonel’s arrival days ago, but Jason had always been good at thinking on his feet. Too good, sometimes. This time Joshua was glad for his older brother’s talent; too little sleep and too much brooding had reduced him to barely being able to think.

 

“After that, Joshua will show you our books.”

 

With a vague nod, Josh shuffled off toward the office tent.

 

“Your brother’s not very talkative, is he?” he heard Colonel Thompson say as he walked away.

 

Jason’s slap to Thompson’s shoulder resounded in the morning quiet. “He’s just very shy. Always has been, since he was a little boy….”

 

Jason’s voice faded as he led Thompson out of camp. Normally Joshua would have experienced a mix of admiration and irritation at Jason’s embroidery of the truth. Today he could only sigh.

 

Entering the tent, he slumped down in his chair. A short week ago, they had been nervous and excited about the arrival of Thompson. Winning his approval would mean a long-term contract with the United States Government. Now it hardly seemed to matter. Joshua knew his presentation of the Bolt brother’s financial status could mean the difference between them getting the contract or losing it. But try as he might, he couldn’t unearth any of his usual enthusiasm for the books, the company or even the future.

 

“You look terribly melancholy, lad.”

 

Josh managed a wan smile. “I suppose I am, Uncle.”

 

He’d seen little of Uncle Duncan the last few days. Of course, he hadn’t been paying much attention to anything but one slim volume of a young woman’s life.

 

“Is it because of that girl’s diary?” Duncan pulled up a chair next to him.

 

“Mirimanto.” Joshua tried to keep the anger out of his voice, but after spending two days immersed in her life he couldn’t let her be slighted. “Her name was Mirimanto.”

 

Duncan flushed and dropped his eyes. “Aye. Aye, it was.”

 

Pulling the diary from an inner pocket where he’d kept it safe from the moisture in the air, Joshua held it out to his uncle. “You should read it, Uncle. Read the results of your family’s actions.”

 

Duncan scrubbed at his beard. “Oh, lad….”

 

“It’ll break your heart. It broke mine.” He flipped to the last page with writing. “Let me read you some.”

 

_I am dying. I can tell by the doctor’s face and feel it within myself. No one here speaks my tongue or knows the rites of my people. Where will my spirit go when it leaves this poor weak body? Will it be able find its way home? Or will it wander forever lost and alone? Is this my punishment for daring to love a man not of my people?_

_And what of my son? Must he too pay the price for my foolishness? He is so young, yet he knows something is terribly wrong. What will happen to him? Who will care for him? Should I have left him with the Bolt clan? Would they have loved him like I do? Or would they have treated him as they did me?_

“Enough, lad,” Duncan moaned. “Please!”

 

Josh’s head plummeted down onto his crossed arms. “Every night I hear her voice in my head. I can’t sleep. I keep hearing her.”

 

“I have not slept well myself,” Duncan admitted in a murmur, swiping at the moisture in his eyes.

 

“I’m so confused,” Josh’s voice was muffled by his arms. “Miri loved Father very much. It’s in every word she writes. And I think he loved her too.”

 

“Aye.”

 

“I read her words and I want them to be together. I think they would have found a way to be happy.” Josh propped himself up on his elbows.

 

“It was wrong what we did.” Duncan shook his head slowly. “Your father was the rebel, the dreamer. I was always the dutiful son. Our father, Laird of Kilmarron, had decreed Jonathan would marry the Laird of Montgomery’s daughter and so it would be.  To have broken their betrothal could have caused a feud between our clans. But I should have been more of the loving brother and less of the future Laird.”

 

“But if you had, what would have become of us? The sons of Madeline and Jonathan Bolt. God, I feel guilty for being born. Did Mirimanto have to die so we could live?”

 

“Nae, lad, nae.” Duncan grabbed for his hand. “The one has nae to do with the other. Mirimanto’s,” he pronounced her name carefully. “death was tragic, but it happened long before you were born. And what was done is written in stone. It can nae be undone.”

 

There was no arguing with that. No amount of guilt or regret could bring back a life lost.

 

“But we can undo some of the hurt our family has caused.” Josh jerked his head around to find Jeremy standing just inside the tent. His younger brother raised his hands in apology. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be eavesdropping. Just came in to warm up.”

 

Josh checked the surge of irritation. Jeremy had a right to be included in this conversation. “C’mon in.”

 

“Do you believe its true now?” Turning his back, Jeremy warmed his hands over the small stove.

 

Josh could detect no hint of ‘I told you so’ in Jeremy’s tone. Grateful, he nodded. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

 

“I hope learning of this does nae affect the love and respect I know you felt for your father,” Duncan said. “He was a good man. He did the best he could.”

 

“He made a pretty big mistake, didn’t he?”

 

“Mistake?  Was it really?” Duncan mused. “What did he do wrong?  He was young and he fell in love as young men are prone to do.”

 

Jeremy pulled a chair up to the table. “But he was engaged to our m-m-mother at the time.”

 

“Aye. But it was a betrothal not of his own choosing. Do nae misunderstand. Jonathan cared about Madeline but at the time he first left for America, they were nae in love.”

 

“They loved each other!” Josh bristled.

 

“After years together, their deep respect for each other turned into an equally deep love. Remember your mother was only fifteen at the time of the betrothal. Your father tried to do right by both of the young women. He could have simply stayed here in America and we could have done naught. He could have broken the engagement by letter. He came back to Scotland not to shame your mother but because he thought Madeline deserved to hear the words from him. He did nae always make the right choices but he always made them with the best of intentions.”

 

Twisting, Josh propped his elbow on the chair back. Perhaps if he’d been older when his father died, he wouldn’t be having this difficulty. Only fifteen at the time of his father’s death, he’d just begun to ponder the possibility that his father could make mistakes. Now at twenty-six, his father’s human struggles were being forcibly illustrated. He’d had the experience of falling in love himself, not always wisely. How would he have faced the impossible choices his father had faced?

 

“What are we going to do now?” Jeremy hit the crux of the dilemma.

 

“I know what we _should_ do. What Jason’s been trying to do since this started.” Josh scrubbed viscously at his scalp. “But I don’t know if I can. I don’t know if I can ever call that man brother.”

 

“Is he really so bad, lad?”

 

Seating himself at the table, Jeremy folded his hands in front of him. “At times it seemed like his life’s goal has been to destroy the Bolt brothers.”

 

“I do nae try to excuse his actions, but I think you see now that he had reason to be hostile to the Bolts.”

 

Josh considered, then nodded slowly. He hadn’t thought about what Stempel might have been feeling all these years. He didn’t want to think about it now, but he forced himself. Stempel’s mother had died because of the actions of the Bolt clan. His father had denied him. Aaron had no reason to love the Bolt family. But Josh couldn’t give up long-held feelings that easily.

 

“He’s an arrogant, self-righteous, cold-hearted prig. How could a man like that have a drop of Bolt blood in his veins? No wonder Father rejected him.”

 

“Josh,” Jeremy turned the full force of his sincerity on Josh. “Have you ever thought that if Father hadn’t rejected him, Aaron might not be a ‘man like that’?”

 

Josh twisted away from the blue eyes that were so reminiscent of their father’s. A shiver coursed down his spine. “I gotta finish these books before Jason gets back with Thompson.”

 

 

 

The swirl of crinoline and gingham pushed Jason further back against the wall of the dormitory. The brides had done a wonderful job putting together a reception for Colonel Thompson on short-notice. Tables were stacked with food until they looked near to collapse. Now, with the preparation’s done, the girls flocked around Thompson, barely giving the man a chance to catch his breath.

 

Nearly as tall as Jason, Thompson cut a striking figure with the blue uniform stretched across his broad shoulders and sparkling gold buttons emphasizing the breadth of his chest. Women loved a man in a uniform, Jason grinned to himself. The uniform and his air of authority practically had the girls swooning at his feet. By all appearances, Thompson was enjoying the attention.

 

The day had gone surprisingly well, despite the lack of preparation. No accidents, fights or major faux-pas marred their presentation. Jason couldn’t have hoped for more. Well, he could have hoped that Thompson would have given them some indication of what his decision would be, but the colonel was exceptionally closed-mouth. Possibly a night of drinking the spiked punch would open his mouth a bit.

 

The door opened and Jason drew a cautious breath as Aaron entered with Lottie on his arm. The last thing they could afford was to put on another show for Thompson like they had yesterday in Aaron’s office. But if Aaron was nothing else, he was a savvy businessman. He must know they had to put on a show of solidarity, even if that was the last thing they were.

 

Jason gravitated in Aaron’s direction. The smile Aaron had directed at Lottie faded when he noticed Jason’s approach but he made no move to escape. Jason took that as a good sign.

 

“Aaron.”

 

“Bolt,” Aaron returned the greeting, his face wiped clear of expression.

 

“The girls seem to be quite impressed with our guest.”

 

Aaron arched an eyebrow. “I doubt it’ll influence his decision, but it can’t hurt to keep him sweet. How’d it go at camp today?”

 

Letting out a little breath of relief at Aaron’s willingness to play the game, Jason smiled. “Good. Better than I expected. Don’t know if we impressed the colonel, though. He’s not giving much away. You ready at the mill?”

 

“Harve’s been runnin’ all day. So have the rest of the men. We’ll be ready in the morning.”

 

“Good.” Jason slapped him on the shoulder. He realized his mistake instantly. Aaron had always shied away from touching and being touched; which was why Jason loved to ruffle his feathers by laying hands on him. However, now was not the time to ruffle feathers but to soothe them.

 

Lottie grasped Aaron’s clenched fist with both of her hands. “Ease up, Aaron. Thompson’s watching.”

 

Jason held up his hands in mute appeal.

 

His breath hissing between clenched teeth, Aaron gave a sharp nod. “All right. I won’t ruin our chances by taking a punch at you. But this isn’t over between us.”

 

“I know that, Aaron.” Jason took a step back, allowing Aaron some breathing room. “When you’re ready to talk, I’ll be there.”

 

“C’mon, sweetheart,” Lottie tugged on Aaron’s arm. “Why don’t you buy me a drink for a change?”

 

Dragging his eyes from Jason, Aaron seemed to shrink as he let out a lungful of air. The rigid lines of his shoulders relaxed and he quirked a smile. “I wouldn’t be buyin’ now either.”

 

“In a way you are.” She started to steer him across the room. “You and the Bolts are footing the bill for this little shindig.”

 

Jason winced at her choice of words, but Aaron didn’t seem to notice. Or if he did, he didn’t chose to comment on it.

 

“I suppose we are. But I think we’d do better by rescuing the colonel.” He indicated the guest of honor with a jerk of his head. “Biddie has him surrounded.”

 

Jason checked on the whereabouts of both of his brothers. Despite his attempt at a normal façade, Aaron was obviously walking on the edge tonight. Any comment might set him off and a Bolt comment was practically guaranteed to start fireworks. His brothers looked safe enough for the moment. In the corner, Joshua admired all the pretty girls with Corky and Canada. Jeremy and Candy whirled with the other dancing couple on the converted dance floor. He hoped they had the good sense to stay away from Aaron tonight.

 

Working his way across the room, Jason tried to get in position to keep an eye on Aaron without being obvious about it. He knew Aaron would resent his efforts at motherhenning but he couldn’t stop himself. It was more than the contract that Thompson might offered that pushed him forward. It was a genuine desire to shield his brother from any additional strain.

 

He staggered as the concept hit him. Until this moment, he’d wrestled with the fact intellectually and accepted it. Now for the first time, he felt it viscerally - in his heart and in his soul. His brother Aaron. They shared the blood of Jonathan Bolt. They also shared more than ten years of history - clashing against each other and standing shoulder to shoulder when their town or family was threatened. The relationship they’d forged in those years could never be the same as he’d forged with Joshua and Jeremy in the years they grew up together, but it was just as intense and indisputable. His brother.

 

Colonel Thompson swept Lottie out onto the dance floor just as Jason got within earshot. Having seemingly regained his composure, Aaron engaged Ben in a casual conversation. Jason tried to look inconspicuous, but he’d never been very good at fading into a crowd. He knew bird-dogging Aaron all night would only stoke the man’s ire, but he couldn’t dismiss the feeling that Aaron’s fuse was burning and the explosion would happen tonight.

 

“Excuse me, Jason.” A huge pitcher in her hands, Biddie appeared beside him. “Could you pour for me? I’m just sure I’ll spill it all over the table. ”

 

“Certainly.” Carefully relieving her of the pitcher, he refilled the giant punchbowl. “You know, if you keep this full, you’ll be tripping over the drunks before the night is over.”

 

“Jason,” she tittered. “Oh, look, there’s Mr. Stempel. I just have to talk to him.”

 

Before Jason could say a word, Biddie charged after her quarry. Frantically, he sought an empty space to deposit the pitcher. Finding none, he simply took it with him in pursuit.

 

“Mr. Stempel,” Biddie shrilled. “Oh, Mr. Stempel, I’ve been meaning to talk to you all night.”

 

Aaron bowed his head politely. “Miss Cloom.”

 

“I just have to tell you how badly we all feel about what happened to you the other day.” She clung to Aaron’s sleeve. “It was just terrible what they did, Red and his friends.”

 

A muscle in Aaron’s jaw jumped. “Thank you, Miss Cloom. Now if you’ll…”

 

Biddie didn’t notice Aaron’s attempted dismissal. “Oh, yes, we’ve been talking about it, all of us girls. And I just want you to know none of us would even think of holding the fact that you’re half-Indian against you.”

 

To Jason’s amazement, Aaron held his temper, though his tone was liberally laced with sarcasm. “You wouldn’t?”

 

“Oh, no, indeedy, we wouldn’t dream of it.”

 

“Well…” Aaron’s attempted smile more closely resembled a snarl. “I can’t tell you how… wonderful that makes me feel.”

 

“In fact, there are some of us who find it rather…” she giggled, hiding her mouth beneath her fingertips. “Titillating.”

 

“I’m glad you find my lineage of interest.”

 

“Did I hear correctly?” Colonel Thompson’s cold voice came from over Jason’s shoulder. “Did this young lady say that you’re Indian, Mr. Stempel?”

 

Pulling his hands from his pockets, Aaron straightened to his full height. All expression faded from his face. “That’s right, Colonel, I am. Half. My mother was Dwamish.”

 

“That wasn’t mentioned in any of the reports.”

 

“I don’t see how Aaron’s parentage could make…” Jason desperately tried to intervene.

 

“Oh, well, we all just found out a few days ago,” Biddie spouted. “And we found out that Mr. Stempel has the same father as the Bolts.”

 

“Biddie!”

 

Lottie did exactly what Jason would have done, if he could have found a place to set the damned pitcher. She clamped a hand over Biddie’s mouth. Sensing the developing drama, the chatter of the crowd behind Jason quieted and dancers lost their rhythm. Jeremy and Candy drifted closer, but Joshua remained leaning against the wall as if he watched a particularly interesting play.

 

“Half brother to the Bolts? Yet you call yourself Stempel.” Thompson’s features twisted into a contemptuous sneer.

 

“What I call myself is my business, not yours.” Facing the soldier squarely, Aaron’s dark eyes smoldered. Whirling, Jason squashed a plate of sandwiches with his pitcher, knowing the explosion he’d dreaded was seconds away.

 

“I understand why Mr. Bolt didn’t give you his name,” Thompson snickered maliciously. “After all, what white man would claim a bush baby made with some greasy squaw?”

 

Jason lunged to restrain Aaron a moment too late. Grasping great handfuls of neat blue uniform, Aaron slammed the colonel against the wall. "Don't ever let me hear you say anything like that again."

 

“Showing your crude origins?” Thompson tried to sound confident, but he couldn’t hide the fear in his eyes.

 

“Crude?” Aaron snarled. “I think the word you want is savage. Do you have any doubt in your mind at all that this savage couldn’t change your life?”

 

Jason wrapped long arms around Aaron’s shoulders, tugging him back. “Aaron, that’s enough. It’s not worth it.”

 

Wiggling her way between the two adversaries, Lottie touched Aaron’s cheek. “Please, sweetheart.”

 

Aaron dropped his glare from Thompson to Lottie’s misty eyes. His grip loosened and he took a half-step back.

 

Lottie pressed her advantage. “We’ll take care of this. Why don’t you go outside and cool off?”

 

“All right, Lottie,” he exhaled. Releasing his hold, he allowed Thompson to sag back against the wall.

 

Jason pulled, keeping him moving until the two men were no longer within arm’s reach. “C’mon, Aaron, let’s go take a walk.”

 

“I don’t need you watchin’ over me, Bolt.” Aaron shook himself loose. With a dark glare, he flung his defiance across the room. Stiff pride held him straight as he strode from the building.

 

Jason met Lottie’s eyes and saw the same furious pain he himself felt. If it weren’t for the contract, he would ride the officer out of Seattle on a rail. Hell, he might do it anyway. No contract could be worth accepting the man’s bigotry.

 

“Colonel Thompson,” he cleared his throat so he could speak through his anger. “We will not tolerate that kind of prejudice here.”

 

“Prejudice?” Thompson sputtered. “For ten years I’ve fought those sneaking Indians, now you expect me to deal with one as if he’s white?”

 

“Fought Indians, my Aunt Mabel,” Lottie muttered. “The only thing he’s ever fought is the paper on his desk.”

 

Jason snickered as a flush rose up the colonel’s face. He sobered at the look of pure venom the colonel returned.

 

“I was told this was a civilized town. I see my information was sadly mistaken.”

 

“More civilized than you’ve acted, sir.” Jason took a step closer, using his superior height to his advantage. “You will treat with Aaron Stempel with the dignity every human being deserves and the respect he’s earned. If you feel you can not do that, transportation can be arranged back to your fort.”

 

“Is that an ultimatum, Mr. Bolt?” Thompson sneered. “Remember I’m the one who has to approve your contract with the government. A contract that’s worth a great deal of money.”

 

“There are some things that are more important than money, Thompson,” Jason deliberately left off the man’s rank. “Now excuse me, I feel the need to wash.”

 

Jason turned his back, leaving Thompson standing behind him in open-mouthed shock.

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Leaning back against the wall of his house, Aaron drew hard on his expensive cigar. It helped relieve the tension - a little. He considered going inside the house but he had a decent view of the town from the porch and the light breeze cooled the fire inside him. And if he went into the house as mad as he was, he wouldn’t have a stick of furniture left undamaged. A comfortable chair set a few feet away from him but tonight he chose to sit on the hard wood. One long leg stretched out in front of him, he looped his arm around the other upraised knee.

 

He’d scuttled the deal with Thompson, he was fairly sure. But even with the substantial amount of money at stake, Aaron wouldn’t - couldn’t - stand still and take that kind of insult. He may have scant memory of his mother but he’d allow no one to call her a greasy squaw. Would serve Bolt right if they did lose the deal. Bolt was the one who’d spread the reality of his ancestry around town.

 

“Good evening,” a voice called.

 

Not immediately recognizing the voice, Aaron squinted into the darkness, barely making out a silhouette approaching from the Bolts’ cabin. Too broad to be any of the brothers, he wondered who it could be. Oh, no, he moaned to himself. For a second he thought of ignoring the eldest of the Bolt clan, of hiding in the dimness, but he realized it was too late. The man had already seen him, his white shirt standing out like a beacon in the dark.

 

“Bolt.”

 

“Might I have a word with you, Mr. Stempel?” Duncan Bolt clutched the porch rail.

 

“I’ve never been able to get a Bolt to shut up yet,” Aaron retorted.

 

Stepping up on the porch, Duncan ignored his sarcasm. “May I sit? I have been on my feet all day and I fear the old bones are nae what they used to be.”

 

“Oh, by all means, make yourself comfortable.”

 

Settling himself in the chair, Duncan leaned forward. “I witnessed what happened at the party tonight. It was nae right what the colonel said to you.”

 

“Is what he said any different from how you felt?” Aaron snorted. “I’ve fought these kinda battles most of my life. And now thanks to your family, I’m gonna have to start fighting them again.”

 

“Has your life been so dreadful, lad, that you must strike out at those around you? Dinna the Stempels provide you with a home and family?”

 

“A home?” Aaron had never before exposed his soul’s scars, but he wanted to hurt this man. “A roof over my head, that’s all I got. I was delivered into the hands of a woman who hated me before I was old enough to fight back.”

 

“My family has committed a grave injustice against you, Mr. Stempel.”

 

“You mean, now?” Aaron struck out. “Or thirty-five years ago, when you stole my father and killed my mother?” Satisfaction filled him when the old man flinched.

 

“Now _and_ then, I suppose.” Duncan sighed. “It turned my stomach how Thompson insulted you and your mother. But the Bolt clan was nae much different all those years ago. We perhaps phrased it more politely but the prejudice was the same. Too prideful of being Scot, we were. And you - the most innocent of us all - were the one to suffer the most from it.”

 

“Save your pity. I don’t need it.”

 

“Nae, I can see that, lad.” Duncan settled comfortably in the chair. “You have your mother’s defiance. No matter what she might have been feeling inside, she held her head high.”

 

Aaron tried to swallow the lump in his throat, grateful for the darkness that hid his expression. God, sitting next to him was a man who’d known his mother. All the questions he’d longed to ask Jonathan Bolt, but hadn’t been able to because of the man’s denial, bubbled up inside of him. The need shamed him, but couldn’t be contained.

 

“When’s my birthday? How old am I?” The questions slipped out against his will.

 

“You do nae know?” Duncan’s eyes widened in amazement. “You had her journal, did you nae?”

 

“She didn’t put any dates in it,” Aaron admitted in a hoarse whisper. “George Stempel guessed I was three but he didn’t really know.”

 

Brow furrowed, Duncan stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Nae, lad, it does nae seem possible that you could even have been two. If I remember correctly, of course it was many years ago, but I’m sure your mother said you were born October twenty-fourth.”

 

Aaron tried to swallow around the rock in his throat. It shouldn’t be so important. What difference did a birthday make? Who he was didn’t change just because he now knew how old he really was.

 

“I don’t remember her.”

 

“Of course you do nae. You were but a wee bairn.” Hooking his ankle on the porch rail, Duncan leaned the chair back against the wall. Aaron felt a surge of resentment at the man’s apparent ease. “She could nae have been much older than eighteen, but she had the strength and pride of a real lady.”

 

_More!_ Aaron wanted to shriek. _Tell me every single thing you remember about her_. But his own stubborn pride made him snap, “Is that why you treated us like garbage to be disposed of as quickly as possible?”

 

Duncan tensed. “It had little to do with her at all. The people she came from was a convenient excuse. Laird of Kilmarron my father had been born and raised to be. He had promised Jonathan to Madeline of Montgomery as part of an alliance between the two clans. And he was not a man who took being thwarted well.”

 

Aaron’s thoughts raced feverishly. His mother’s diary had mentioned none of this. How much was true? And if it was true, how much of it had she known?  How little of his origins did he really know?

 

“How do I know what to believe?” He hated the hint of pleading he heard in his own voice.

 

“Believe your mother a fine woman, who loved you and did what she thought best for you.”

 

Hiding his face from the eldest Bolt, Aaron rubbed his burning eyes. “I do.”

 

“And your father a man who loved both you and your mother.” Duncan ignored Aaron’s soft grunt. “It was tragic what happened to them and to you. I deeply regret my part in this tragedy. Perhaps some day you will be able to forgive the Bolts.”

 

“Why should I?”

 

“Not for us but for yourself. All that anger can be a very heavy burden.” Duncan pulled himself upright. “I would nae take anymore of your time tonight. But I hope you will see fit to allow me to speak with you again. Perhaps I have some knowledge of your mother you might be pleased to hear. Good night, nephew.”

 

As Bolt disappeared into the gloom, Aaron clutched his knees to his chest and rested his head on them. He didn’t want to deal with any of this, but they kept forcing it on him.

 

 

 

Leaning back on the porch rail, Jeremy pulled Candy close to him. “You sure you don’t need me to help clean up?”

 

“We can handle it,” Candy sighed heavily. “And it’ll give me a chance to talk to Biddie. She’s very upset, you know.”

 

Jeremy echoed the sigh. “I know she is. But you tell her its not her fault. She didn’t do anything wrong. Thompson’s the one who was wrong.”

 

“Easier said than believed.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“She’s afraid that Mr. Stempel will hate her. She has a bit of an infatuation with him, you know. And he’s always been nice to her; well, as nice as he ever is to anyone.”

 

Jeremy couldn’t suppress his chuckle. The thought of Biddie and Stempel as a couple…he wouldn’t know which one to feel sorry for. Seeing his reaction, Candy jabbed him in the ribs, then started to giggle herself.

 

Admiring the smile he’d cause, he leaned in to steal a kiss. Not stealing, he decided, Candy gave her kisses to him freely. Reluctantly he pulled back before it could get too serious. “Well, if you don’t need my help, I better be getting home.”

 

“I suppose,” she smiled. “Jason’s probably hatching some scheme for tomorrow as we speak.”

 

“I wouldn’t want to miss it,” his grin faded and he continued more seriously. “We’re getting married a week from Saturday. None of this is going to change that. Right?”

 

“Nothing is going to stop us from being married,” she affirmed.

 

Snatching a final kiss, he turned and headed for home. He wondered what kind of scene he would find there. Both his brothers were bound to be upset. He wasn’t happy about tonight’s events himself. Of all the things he’d never thought he’d feel, sympathy for Aaron Stempel was high on the list. Insulting the man because he was an arrogant jerk Jeremy could accept, even enjoy. Insulting his mother because she was Indian boiled Jeremy’s blood.

 

Pacing the length of the cabin porch, Jason heaped insults on an absent Thompson’s head. Jason halted his march when he saw Jeremy’s approach.

 

“How’s Biddie?” Jason called.

 

“Upset,” Jeremy shrugged. “Candy’s talking to her now.”

 

His oldest brother nodded in sympathy. “Biddie has such good intentions but her timing could certainly stand improvement.”

 

“No matter what Biddie said, Thompson was way out of line.”

 

Jason jerked his head. “I should have let Aaron punch him. I don’t know anybody who deserves  it more.”

 

Against violence in general, this time Jeremy couldn’t help but agree. Even if it caused the loss of the contract for Seattle, some people just deserved a fat lip. “I think I would have enjoyed watching that as much as Stempel would have enjoyed doing it.”

 

“I suppose I should go check on Aaron,” Jason sighed. “Maybe I can calm him down a little.”

 

 

 

Joshua exited the cabin just in time to catch Jason’s words as Jason headed toward Stempel’s.

 

“Why?” he demanded.

 

“Why what?” Jason halted, brow furrowed in confusion.

 

“Why check on him?” Josh followed his brother off the porch, tension taking away his usual grace. “Why calm him down?”

 

“You don’t think what Thompson did tonight to Aaron was right, do you?”

 

“Oh course not. But why do you care what Stempel feels? What has he ever done for us that would make you care about him?” He had never understood the strange game his brother and the millowner played.

 

“My friendship has never been based on what someone else has done for me. I hope yours doesn’t.”

 

“Oh, no, don’t turn this back on me, Jason. I want to know how you could ever be friends with a man like him. How can you sit down to a game of dominos with a man who just a few weeks earlier hired thugs to beat us up?”

 

“Don’t you forget a man like him risked his life to try to save yours!”

 

“That’s right, throw _that_ in my face again. Every time there’s trouble in town - trouble Stempel’s not the one causing, that is - you turn to him for help. You don’t turn to your family. Not me and Jeremy. Oh, no. You go to Aaron Stempel. The man who’s tried to destroy everything our father worked to give us. Why, Jason?”

 

Jason blinked his confusion at the assault. “That’s not true, Joshua.”

 

“What about with Sheriff Wade? Did you ask us to help? No, you went right to Stempel.”

 

“Well, I…”

 

“You did, Jason,” Jeremy took up the argument. “And with Redmond Bass. You didn’t tell us about your plan until you and Stempel had already broken Bass out of jail.”

 

“I had to get Aaron on our side or they would have lynched Redmond.” Jason protested. “My scheme never would have worked without Aaron. I didn’t need more Bolts; I needed someone Balter would listen to.”

 

“And you were willing to put Bass’ life in Stempel’s hands?”

 

Jason stared straight into Josh’s eyes, no doubt at all in his expression. “Yes.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because I know when I can trust Aaron and when I can’t. And I knew he wouldn’t let me down.”

 

“How can you say that? Stempel hates us!”

 

“No, he doesn’t, Josh. Knowing what we know now, can you try to understand why Aaron did some of the things he did? I’m not asking that you forget everything that’s happened between us, but can you find some understanding and perhaps a little forgiveness? Maybe he had a valid reason to resent us? And maybe he wouldn’t be so stiff-necked if we didn’t constantly rub his face in our brotherhood.”

 

Josh sucked in a breath as Jason hit a nerve. So many of Stempel’s actions were understandable now that they knew his secret. Josh might have reacted much the same if he’d stood in Stempel’s shoes. But even with understanding, Josh couldn’t get beyond the resentment and anger which had built over years. And how could he live with those emotions toward his own brother?

 

“There’s never been any hate involved.” Jason continued, not noticing Josh’s reaction. “We compete. Sometimes we play for big stakes and sometimes just for the love of the game. But neither of us has ever hated the other.”

 

“A game?!” Josh gasped. “Is that all our mountain means to you? Stakes in a game?”

 

“No, of course not!” Jason struggled to explain. “But when the pressure is on and the mountain’s at stake, I feel…I don’t know… _Alive_. That’s it. I’m so alive, I think I’ll burst with it.”

 

Josh marveled at his brother. Was that why Jason took Stempel up on his challenges? Not because of what he could gain or what he stood to lose? But because he loved the struggle so much? Josh’s analytical mind couldn’t quite comprehend it. Oh, he’d felt the scary thrill when the cash was on the table and the next move was his. But he didn’t seek that thrill out the way Jason seemed to.

 

“And now that you’ve found out he’s our brother, will you ever turn to us again?”

 

“What? What are you talking about?”

 

“Everyone looks up to you. The great Jason Bolt. Then there’s sweet, cute Jeremy, the one everyone wants to mother. But what about me? Who am I? I’m what’s-his-name, you know the middle one. And if you add Aaron Stempel to the family, I’ll be just one more step down the ladder, won’t I?”

 

Jason gaped, his mouth moving but no sound coming out. Staring down at his shuffling feet, Josh wished he could recall the words. Not because they weren’t true, but because they were too true for his own comfort. He’d never been able to win against Jason and when he’d gone up against Stempel, he’d ended up looking the fool. Only as part of the Bolt brothers had he been able to win. Now the Bolt brothers included the one man he most wanted to beat.

 

He’d grown up in Jason’s shadow. Measured by Jason’s accomplishments. Would Stempel’s shadow obscure him completely from view?

 

“You don’t really feel like that, do you, Josh?” Brow wrinkled in concern, Jeremy reached out for his brother.

 

“Not all the time,” Josh admitted. “Not even most of the time. But sometimes it’s really hard being the middle brother. Especially in a family like the Bolts.”

 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Jason framed Josh’s shoulders with his hands. “I never knew you felt like that.”

 

“What could you have done? You are who you are. You can’t just stop being Jason Bolt. It’s just sometimes I’m not so sure who Joshua Bolt is.”

 

“Finding out that Aaron is our brother doesn’t make you any less, Joshua. And it doesn’t make _him_ more. Just different than we were aware of before. I know its hard to change the way you’ve always thought about things - and people - but if you let yourself you could find Aaron Stempel isn’t your enemy.”

 

Josh’s sigh shook him down to his boot soles. “I’ve got some more thinking to do. I’m gonna take a walk.”

 

“Sure you don’t want to talk more?” Jeremy offered.

 

“Thanks, but I think this is something I have to work out for myself.” He let Jason reel him in for a quick hug and whack on the back. A hand slap from Jeremy sent him on his lonely path.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Standing outside of Lottie’s, Jason gave himself a bracing speech. It promised to be a long day and he had already had a long night, only a few hours of it spent sleeping. But he had to present a strong, calm façade or Thompson would gnaw at them like a dog with a bone. Taking a deep breath, Jason throw open the door.

 

Sitting at a corner table, Thompson threw him a baleful look as he entered. If he were a more violent man, he would have smacked the man cross-eyed.

 

“Morning,” Jason pasted his biggest, most insincere grin on his face. “I trust you had a good night’s sleep.”

 

“As a matter of fact, I didn’t,” Thompson growled. “This town seems to have a perpetual party going on. There wasn’t a moment of quiet all night long.”

 

Jason heard a muffled squeak of laughter behind him. Twisting his head, he gave Lottie a ‘what have you been up to’ look.

 

With a elaborately innocent smile, Lottie replied, “Well, this is a saloon, you know. A girl has to make a living. Can I get you something to help wake up? Some coffee? Tea? Arsenic?”

 

Jason hid his chuckle behind his hand while Lottie did nothing to disguise her laughter. Thompson’s eyes widened, then his lip curl back in an unconscious snarl as the insult sunk in. Jason found he didn’t much care how insulted the man felt. Prejudice of the kind the man had displayed couldn’t be coddled, even if it did mean the loss of a huge contract.

 

Thompson opened his mouth to reply just as Aaron walked into the saloon. All the venom the colonel had been about to launch at Jason and Lottie drew back; a much more satisfying target had just entered the arena. Feeling the animosity, Aaron’s eyes narrowed then flashed danger. Jason would have his hands full keeping these two men from killing each other today.

 

Tilting his head, Aaron acknowledged Thompson with a nod that more closely resembled a challenge to a duel than a greeting. Standing, the colonel straightened his uniform, emphasizing the gunbelt strapped around his waist. Aaron tucked his chin and grinned.

 

Lottie hurried to his side. “Aaron, you want some breakfast before you go off to the mill?”

 

“No, thank you, Lottie,” he replied, never losing eye contact with Thompson.

 

Jason moved before it could develop into more than a staring contest. “Well, why don’t we get going then? No sense wasting the morning.”

 

“That’s right, Bolt.” Thompson walked around his table. Jason could detect a barely perceptible tremor in his voice. “I can’t imagine that this…Mr. Stempel could take up the whole morning showing me his…establishment.”

 

“Let’s go then,” Aaron growled.

 

Escorting Thompson out, Jason carefully kept his body between the two antagonists. When they got to the street he realized Aaron wasn’t immediately behind them. Trying to locate him, Jason glanced back into Lottie’s. What he saw raised a lump in his throat.

 

Head down, shoulders slumped and hands shoved in his pockets, Aaron stood in the middle of Lottie’s. Eyes closed, he let out his breath in a long slow sigh. All the times Jason had claimed victory in their battles, he’d never seen Aaron appear this dejected before. Or tired, the skin drawn taut across his broad cheekbones. Even his clothes - black suit without the usual accompanying brocade vest - looked gloomy.

 

The revealing stance lasted only a moment. Feeling Jason’s gaze upon him, Aaron braced erect. A fire grew in his eyes but it was a muted fire. _How much longer can you keep fighting alone, Aaron? Why won’t you let me help?_

 

 

 

Aaron led the way, struggling to keep his stride sure and confident. All morning long, he’d endured Thompson’s digs. The man didn’t exhibit the blatant prejudice of the previous night; his insults today were of a much more subtle nature. Every answer was met with a slight sneer. Every accomplishment belittled with tales of how other mills did it better. Aaron countered as best he could with the extensive knowledge he’d worked years to obtain. Bolt tried to help, blunting the worst of the indictments.

 

Aaron wondered why he tried. Nothing they said would make any difference. Thompson had already made up his mind. Just pride, Aaron guessed. He’d never given up before. This bigot wasn’t going to make him do it now.

 

But he could feel everything he’d worked for start to crumple around him. How long would it take before the word about his parentage got out? Sure that Thompson would find other reasons than his own dislike of Indians to not approve the contract, Aaron wondered what excuse he would use. That the mill wasn’t up to standards? How long before he began losing contracts and opportunities? Had his fight for respectability been all for nothing?

 

“I think I’ve seen all I need to see.”

 

“Fine.” Aaron barely restrained the urge to slap the infuriating grin from Thompson’s face. Jerking his watch from its pocket, he checked the time. “Bolt, when were your brothers gonna meet us?”

 

He felt solid warmth as Jason’s shoulder pressed against his. “I told them to be in your office by noon.”

 

“They should be there by now then.” Aaron just wanted this sham over.

 

Joshua and Jeremy were indeed in his office when they arrive. Aaron felt a surge of irritation at the way they lounged against his desk but he didn’t have the energy to sustain it. He got a polite nod of greeting from Jeremy but Joshua refused to even look at him. Not that he’d ever really been friendly with the middle Bolt but they’d always been able to maintain a civil working relationship before. Aaron wondered what else the revelation of his parentage would cost him.

 

“I suppose you gentlemen would like to know what I intend to recommend.” Thompson seated himself in Aaron’s chair behind Aaron’s desk. A silent growl rumbled in Aaron’s chest.

 

“The suspense is killing us,” Jason replied with a slight grin.

 

“Well, Mr. Bolt, your logging operation appears to be more than adequate to supply the government’s needs at this time.”

 

The brothers shared a pleased grin but Aaron waited for the blow to fall. The self-satisfied grin on Thompson’s face told him what he needed to know. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, bracing his shoulders.

 

“But I’m afraid this mill doesn’t meet with our expectations.”

 

Vaguely aware of the Bolt’s protests, Aaron opened his eyes to meet Thompson’s triumphant gaze squarely _. Don’t think you can destroy me. I’ve faced far worse than you._ But it hurt.

 

“What exactly are you saying, Colonel?” Jason cut through the babble.

 

“I’m prepared to offer the logging portion of the contract to your company, Mr. Bolt. But I cannot in good conscience include this mill in the deal. I find the mill in Everett to be much better organized and prepared to handle a contract of this quantity.”

 

A bitter chuckle escaped Aaron. He knew it would make no difference but he was still compelled to defend his life’s work. “Johnson’s mill in Everett? My mill has a third more capacity than his and you know it. Why don’t you just say the real reason?”

 

Thompson settled himself deeper in Aaron’s chair. “Why I don’t know what you’re talking about. In my professional judgment the mill in Everett is simply a much better choice for the government’s needs. I hope you’re not taking this personally, Mr. Stempel?”

 

Not taking it personally?! Even without Thompson’s blatant prejudice, Aaron would take anything to do with his mill personally. He shot a sideways glance at the oldest Bolt. Could Jason have planned all this? Discovering Aaron’s secret at this particular time was looking less and less coincidental. Had Jason been aware of what Thompson’s reaction would be? Had Jason uncovered the journals to get Aaron unbalanced and disconcerted just at the moment he needed to be his sharpest? If that had been Bolt’s plan, he’d won.

 

“Let me make sure I understand what you’re offering, Colonel Thompson,” Jason began. “If we accept the contract, we have to agree to cut Aaron out of the deal? All of our lumber will have to be shipped to Everett?”

 

“Correct.”

 

“But the rest of the terms will be exactly as stated before?”

 

“Again correct.”

 

Jason reached out to draw his brothers closer. “Well, I think this calls for a family vote.”

 

Turning away, Aaron took a step for the door. He didn’t need to hear the result of this vote. They’d truly bested him this time. He didn’t want to see their gloating. A tug on his shoulder stopped him.

 

“Where do you think you’re going, Aaron? I said we need a family vote.”

 

“Huh?” Aaron scowled his confusion.

 

“The family includes all four brothers,” Jason replied, looking for all the world as if this was an everyday occurrence.

 

A quick glance told Aaron that the other two brothers were just as stunned as he was. “What game are you playing now, Bolt? What kind of farce is this?”

 

“No game, just a family vote.” Jason’s gaze pinned him. “What do you say, Aaron?”

 

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Aaron groaned. Usually, even if he couldn’t intercept him, he understood the aim of Jason’s schemes. This time he felt like a child lost in the woods, not knowing east from west. Was Jason just trying to humiliate him further in front of Thompson?

 

“Fine.” He sighed, not having the strength to continue the battle. He just wanted this to be over so he could go off and lick his wounds. He wasn’t defeated yet but he needed time to regroup. “Not that it matters what I say - but go ahead and take his offer. You’d be fools not to.”

 

“All right, we have one yes. Jeremy, what’s your vote?”

 

Jeremy flicked his gaze between all the players. When he got to Thompson, his eyes hardened. The determined expression made him appear to Aaron suddenly more adult, a man to be reckoned with. He answered firmly, “Absolutely not.”

 

“I vote no, too. That makes it two to one against.” Jason gave his answer as if he was voting for something as inconsequential as what to cook for supper. “Joshua? You can make it three to one or a tie vote.”

 

Aaron watched the middle Bolt’s slow growing grin in trepidation. He could see Joshua relished the idea of delivering the final blow.

 

"Colonel Thompson, this is the mill we worked with since we started as a company.”

 

“Maybe you need to look beyond old loyalties and start making decision on sound business practices.”

 

“Sound business practices are exactly the reason we’ve stayed with this mill,” Joshua rolled his eyes in Aaron’s direction. “As much as I hate to admit it, Stempel’s mill is the best in the area. We won’t abandon it. And the owner may sometimes be a jackass -and that had nothing to do with him being part Indian - but he’s our jackass and we won’t abandon _him_ either. I vote no!"

 

Aaron let out his breath, feeling as staggered as Thompson looked. Were they really standing behind him or only reacting to Thompson’s bigotry?

 

“I suggest you reconsider, gentlemen!” Thompson stammered.

 

“There’s nothing to reconsider,” Jason said, a gigantic grin on his face. “You heard the results of the vote. I don’t think we have anything else to discuss. Joshua, Jeremy, why don’t you escort the colonel back to Lottie’s. I’m sure he wants to prepare for the long trip back to his fort.”

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Jason watched Aaron flop in his chair as Joshua and Jeremy led a sputtering Thompson out of the office. He’d never seen the millowner look quite that confused before. Jason’s sympathy went out to Aaron although a part of him was vastly amused at bemusing the man.

 

“What the hell are you up to, Bolt?” Aaron spoke into hands cupped around his face. “Is all of this so you can blame me for losing the contract? Or do you think I should owe you for your little act of charity just now?”

 

“It's no handout or charity. We're fighting on the same side of this war, Aaron.” Jason parked his butt on the edge of the desk. “We’re just supporting a member of the family. You’ve done it before for us.”

 

Aaron peeked out from between his spread fingers. “When?”

 

“How about the night after our father died when enough seasoned lumber for a casket mysteriously appeared at our cabin.” Jason hadn’t made the realization at the time. He’d been too dazed with grief to even try to figure out who could have delivered that lumber. He’d quietly accepted the gift and with Joshua’s help made the best coffin he could. Now he appreciated that Aaron could have been the only one to delivered seasoned wood that quickly. “That was you, wasn’t it?”

 

Aaron remained silent but his frown and sidelong glance told Jason the whole story. Unlike Jason, Aaron never had been much good at lying. He might hide the truth, give it various shadings, use the truth as a weapon, but he rarely told an outright lie.

 

“And somehow you got Wainwright to pay off on our contract.” Immediately after their father’s death, Joe Wainwright tried to renege on his contract, saying the contract he’d signed had been with Jonathan Bolt, not Jason or any other Bolt. A week of arguing, cajoling and threatening had gained Jason nothing. Astonishingly a few days later, Wainwright appeared at the Bolt cabin, money in hand and cursing Aaron Stempel. “You were looking out for us until we were in better shape to look out for ourselves.”

 

Turning away from Jason, Aaron gave an irritable shrug. “Wasn’t lookin’ out for anybody but myself. Couldn’t let Wainwright renege on a contract - even if it was with a Bolt - or he’d get the idea he could do it to me.”

 

“Sure,” Jason rolled his eyes. “You did it for strictly business reasons.”

 

“Course.”

 

His frustration level rising, he took a deep breath to try to quell it. It didn’t work. “Damn it, Aaron, why are you fighting me so much on this? Why can’t you just relax and accept that there might be a place in our family for you?”

 

Aaron jumped up from his chair, his movements sharp and jerky. “I tried once and what did it get me? Your father denied I even existed.”

 

Closing his eyes, Jason shook his head slowly. “I can’t imagine the courage it took for you to approach him.” Especially for a man like Aaron, he added mentally. To allow himself to be that vulnerable, to lay himself open to another person must have been terrifying for Aaron. Then to have it blow up in his face would only have reinforced the man’s tendency to be a porcupine.

 

A hint of gratitude sparked in Aaron’s eyes at his understanding. “Once I was sure…it took me weeks…”

 

Jason approached softly. “Now that you’ve read his journal, you must know how much he regretted losing you and your mother in Scotland. He thought about you all the time. He even searched for you.”

 

“Then why?” Aaron whirled, his voice breaking in anguish. “If he cared so much, why did he deny he was my father? If he really doubted me, maybe I could understand. But you read the journal too. He _knew_ I was his son. Why?”

 

Jason sighed deeply, wanting to reach out but knowing Aaron would accept no comfort from him. "He had a horrible choice to make and no time in which to make it. You may think he made the wrong choice and I grant that his lies hurt you deeply. But I am my mother’s son and I can not truly regret than her last days were free of the distress your existence would have caused her.”

 

“Why did he have to make that choice?” Aaron appealed, hands spread wide. “I’m not a monster, Jason. If he’d explained I never would have done anything to hurt your mother. I never intended to shout it from the rooftops.”

 

“Maybe he thought he couldn’t take that chance with my mother’s life,” Jason shrugged helplessly. “But he did try; after Mother was…gone, he tried to bring you into the family, didn’t he, Aaron?”

 

“He tried?” Aaron scowled. “When?”

 

“Yeah, when?”

 

Jason groaned as Joshua stepped into the office. Aaron was finally starting to open up and Joshua’s presence could cause him to roll back up in his protective ball. But then again these two were the ones who really needed to confront their differences. If they could be prevented from killing each other.

 

 

 

After making sure Jeremy had Thompson started on his journey, Joshua headed back to the mill office. He dreaded it but he felt in his gut now was the time to come to terms with himself and his family.

 

But once he got outside of the office, he froze. As much as he hated to admit it, Aaron Stempel intimidated the hell out of him. When he faced the millowner, Joshua still felt like the twelve-year-old he’d been when they’d first met. Only with his brothers or for his brothers had he ever been able to stand strong against the man. Now he stood alone, fighting a battle only he could win.

 

Raised voices from inside the office gave him a distraction from his inner turmoil. His eyebrows furrowed as he listened. _I had no idea Stempel helped us out after Father’s death_. In a storm of grief and confusion he’d paid little attention to the world outside of their cabin in the months after their father died. But he remembered Jason’s frustration and worry over Wainwright’s refusal to pay his bill and his stunned joy when the man had unexpectedly coughed up the money. _Stempel did that? Will wonders never cease?_

 

Then they started discussing - arguing about, really - one of the subjects that truly bothered Joshua. The question of their father’s integrity. Joshua knew in his soul that Jonathan Bolt had been an honest man, a fair man. That he’d deliberately lied about something as important as someone’s parentage rubbed at Joshua like a too tight boot.

 

Listening to the exchange between his two older brothers, Josh could stand being a bystander no more. He had his own questions that had to be answered. Two long strides took him inside the office.

 

“Yeah, when?”

 

Stempel arrowed a ferocious glare at him. Even Jason looked a little pained by his intrusion. But he stood straight and asked again. “When?”

 

“A couple of months after our mother died, wasn’t it, Aaron?”

 

Deliberately turning his back on them, Stempel wandered to the window.  “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

 

Jason leaned against the wall, including both Josh and Stempel in his gaze. “It was in his journal, but I remember that day too. He’d been on edge for a couple of days, spending more time in town than usual. Then one morning he seemed to make up his mind about something. Said he was going to the mill, though he wouldn’t say why. When he got back, I don’t think I’d seen him so miserable. Like he’d lost something very precious to him. His journal said he’d tried to apologize and accept you into the family.”

 

Leaning his weight on the window-sill, Stempel shook his head slowly. “I don’t remember it like that.”

 

Joshua took a breath to protest, but then caught a glimpse of Stempel’s face. Honestly confused, the millowner wasn’t trying to deny the truth.

 

“It’s not unusual for two people to remember things differently.” Jason said gently. “How do _you_ remember it, Aaron?”

 

“For six months, he’d been avoiding me,” Stempel’s voice came out tight and strained. “The only time he said a word to me was about business. Suddenly one day he shows up in my office and starts asking all kinds of questions.”

 

“What kind of questions?”

 

Josh could see Stempel’s throat work as he swallowed hard. “About me. About my mother.”

 

“And you got angry, didn’t you, Aaron?” Jason prompted quietly. “Here was the father who’d wanted nothing to do with you suddenly wanting to know everything about you. So you got mad.”

 

Stempel slammed his hand against the window frame. “Yes! I got mad. He’d forfeited any right to ask about me or my mother.”

 

“But you told him about your mother,” Jason guessed. “Because you wanted to hurt him as much as he’d hurt you. So you told him about your mother’s death in the most spiteful way you could, didn’t you, Aaron?

 

“She died because of him! I only told him the truth.”

 

A mass of conflicting emotions flooded through Joshua. Relief that his father had made the attempt to rectify his mistakes, anger that Stempel had not allowed it and a strange sadness that, in his own pain and stubborn pride, Stempel had pushed away something he’d desperately wanted.

 

“He loved her,” Josh offered. “And she loved him. Couldn’t you have given him a chance to explain?”

 

“He had his chance and he called me a liar. I only have to put my hand on the stove once to discover that it’ll burn.” Aaron whirled on Joshua. “And who the hell gave you the right to judge me, boy? You’ve never been where I have. Everything you have has been given to you. All because you were born on the right side of the blanket.”

 

Josh jerked as the arrow struck home. How could he defend himself against the charge when he himself sometimes felt the same way? Was there anything he could point to and say, this is what I accomplished? He glanced at Jason for support but found no help in his brother’s neutral expression.

 

“Father may have left us the mountain but we built the logging business ourselves,” Josh tried to defend.

 

“Jason built it,” Stempel sneered. “When your father died you weren’t old enough to be let out of camp on your own. What would you have done without an older brother to look after you? If you were on your own at that age with nothing but the clothes on your back? If you had only your wits to keep the hundred of bad things that can happen to a fifteen-year old kid on his own from happening?” Stempel gave a snort of derision. “You would have been eaten alive.”

 

Josh blinked at the ferocity and pain radiating from Stempel. “How could I know what I would have done? It didn’t happen like that.”

 

“You never had to worry where your next meal was coming from. Or where you were gonna sleep without someone slitting your throat for your boots.” His adversary’s eyes grow dark and distant. “If you survived that, you might find someone who’d give you hope; make you see the possibility that not all people were evil and that life could be good.  Too bad she’d be dead six months later.”

 

Behind him, Jason gave a sharp gasp. “Oh god, Aaron. No wonder…how long after…”

 

A dark flush rising up from his collar, Stempel cleared his throat roughly. “A few months…cleared up things in Tucson…then George died…I ended up in Seattle.”

 

Joshua flicked his gaze between the other two men, trying to comprehend what they were talking about. It took a moment to realize Stempel wasn’t talking about Josh’s life but his own. Not only had he been on his own at a young age, he’d lost someone he’d loved. A girlfriend? Maybe even a wife. Whoever it’d been, Jason had known about her. And she’d died only months before Aaron had confronted their father.

 

Undiluted compassion for the man unexpectedly struck Joshua. Before all this started he’d never spent a moment consider what Stempel’s life might have been like before he came to Seattle. That the man had even had a life before Seattle never crossed Josh’s mind. Now he’d found hidden hardships and tragedy. How much of this had Jason known or guessed? Was that the reason why Jason, despite all the battles they’d fought against each other, had befriended Stempel? Jason had never been able to stand to see anyone in pain without attempting to render aid. More and more pieces of the puzzle were falling into place, but Josh didn’t think he yet saw the whole picture.

 

“Is that why you hate us so much?” Josh asked. Despite his recently aroused sympathy for the man a flare of anger tinged his voice. “You lost someone you cared about, then our father hurt you again; is that what started this vendetta you have against us?”

 

Stempel glared as he visibly wrenched himself from distant memories. Resentment for Joshua’s presence boiled in his dark eyes. Josh resisted the urge to back away, not allowing himself to be intimidated. To his surprise, it was Stempel who broke first, his gaze straying out the window.

 

“I never hated you, not any of you.”

 

“If it wasn’t hate, what the hell was it? You tried to steal everything we’d worked to build.”

 

“I never stole anything in my life, boy.”

 

“Well, what do you call it then, if you don’t call it stealing?”

 

“Winning! You’re the ones who agreed to bet the mountain and you all agreed to the rules.”

 

“Rules which you bent on occasion,” Jason interjected.

 

“The pot callin’ the kettle black, Bolt?”

 

Jason gave a rueful grin and shrug. “I guess I can’t deny that. And I have to say you might have edged up to the line but you never crossed over into the illegal.”

 

The two men shared a knowing look which raised Josh’s blood pressure another notch. “I can’t believe you two. You act like it was all a game. It’s all okay cause he didn’t do anything illegal? C’mon, Jason. We came close to losing everything.”

 

“If you couldn’t afford to lose the mountain, you shouldn’t have bet it. I never…” Stempel faltered, staring down at his shoes. Josh had the feeling he was looking inside himself for an answer, possibly for the first time. “I didn’t do it to hurt you.”

 

“What kind of hogwash is that? Were you so jealous of Father leaving the mountain to us that you had to keep trying to hurt us any way you could?”

 

“Jealous?!  I wanted to beat you, not hurt you.” Stempel seemed to see a difference in the two ideas that Joshua didn’t. “Had nothin’ to do with jealousy.”

 

Jason stepped quietly behind the millowner. “Aaron, how long are you going to keep trying to prove yourself to a man who’s already dead?”

 

Stempel’s eye grew huge in his pale face. “What?”

 

“That’s what it’s always been about, hasn’t it?” Jason leaned in closer. “Not jealousy or vengeance, but trying to prove you were as good as us?”

 

“I don’t have to prove anything to anyone.” The words were forceful but the voice that delivered them was choked.

 

“No, you don’t. But when are _you_ going to really believe that? Take Father’s journal to heart, Aaron. He _was_ proud of you and he would have shown it if you would have let him.”

 

“So it was all my fault and Jonathan Bolt was totally blameless?” Aaron scoffed.

 

“It doesn’t matter who was to blame. Not now. Can’t you see that, Aaron?” Tentatively, Jason placed his hand on Stempel’s shoulder. “Why can’t you accept Father cared about you as a son and be a part of our family?”

 

“I’ve never…I don’t know how!” Stempel exploded.

 

Both Bolts recoiled. Jason recovered first. “What don’t you know how to do, Aaron? Accept that someone cares about you?”

 

“Be part of a family,” Aaron muttered. “I’ve never been…not really…I’ve always been alone.”

 

Joshua suddenly understood what Jeremy had meant when he said that Stempel might not be the man he was if their father hadn’t denied him. What a man became wasn’t just determined by the blood in his veins, but by his experiences and the way he was raised. Aaron had never had the benefit of their father’s presence. The unwavering love Joshua had taken for granted seemed to have been entirely missing from Stempel’s childhood. The lessons about honesty and fair-play their father taught simply by his own actions Stempel had never seen.

 

What defined a family? Blood or experience? Was it both or neither? And what could the Bolt family gain by continuing to keep Aaron on the outside? More of the strife they’d lived through for years? Joshua could chose to continue the hostilities or try to end them today.

 

He glanced over at Jason, who was watching him with intensity. Now he understood some of why his older brother was pushing this reconciliation. Joshua would never forget some of the dirt Stempel had done to them, but - with the knowledge he’d gleaned - he felt he might be able to find forgiveness.

 

"Mr. Stempel…” He cleared his tight throat and began again. “Aaron, as far as I’m concerned, the war ends here. We are willing to open up our family circle for you, but you have to be courageous enough to step inside. Its up to you now."

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

Aaron carefully scraped the razor down the line of his jaw. Today was one day he didn’t want to show up with shaving cuts or razor burn. Jeremy Bolt…his brother Jeremy was getting married at three o’clock this afternoon. And Aaron had a big decision to make before he appeared at the wedding. His entire future could be determined by what he did today. He’d thought of little else for the previous week.

 

And he still wasn’t sure which fork he should take down this road. Aaron thought if he kept silent and changed nothing about his life, eventually people would forget what they’d learned about his parents. Well, maybe not forget but it would become less and less important as the days passed. Business as usual, no change in relationships, status quo had its appeal. A part of him yearned toward that solution. But it felt like a cowardly way out to the rest of him.

 

He could turn the other way and remove all the stops in his battle with the Bolts. With the proof of Jonathan’s own journals, Aaron was fairly sure he could win at least a piece of the mountain in a court of law. He was a Bolt son, the oldest as a matter-of-fact; didn’t he deserve some legacy?

 

But Bridal Veil Mountain itself had never been his true goal. Jason had been partially right about that; Bridal Veil was only a tangible symbol of all he wanted to achieve. It would have been proof he was just as good as the sons who’d had their father’s favor. Proof he was better than Abigail Stempel’s insistence that he was worthless and destined to accomplish nothing. Winning the mountain would have been like spitting in the face of all the people who’d tried to stomp him into the dirt most of his life.

 

Hadn’t he already accomplished all that, without the damned mountain? He owned his own business, which grew more prosperous every year. Seattle expanded every day and he had been and would continue to be at least as influential as the Bolts in its development. What left did he have to prove? And who was he trying to prove himself to? Jason treated him as an equal, always had. What would ownership of a piece of the mountain buy him that he didn’t already have?

 

Wiping the remaining lather from his face, he stared deeply into the mirror. _Who are you, Aaron Stempel? Or more importantly, who do you want to be?_   A third fork was open to him now. It promised to be a road fraught with ruts and mires but the destination held a potential Aaron could barely visualize. To be part of a real family. To have people he could turn to in times of trouble or joy. Was it worth the risk?

 

In the previous week, the Bolts had done nothing to influence his decision. In fact, they’d mostly avoided him. Oh, Jason had stopped by, but they had passed the evening with a companionable game of cribbage without a mention being made of family. But then again, perhaps Jason had been trying to influence him in a subtle way Aaron hadn’t comprehended at the time. Had Jason been trying to show him what it could be like? Aaron couldn’t deny he’d enjoyed the evening of gentle gossip and good brandy.

 

Was Bolt’s offer of brotherhood sincere? Could he trust Jason and the other two not to turn their backs on him - as their father had done - when he really needed them? He resented the implication that his own lack of courage held him back. One thing that no one had ever questioned was his courage. He’d never backed down from anything because of fear. He couldn’t remember all the times he’d laid his life on the line.

 

He glanced into the mirror again. Maybe those times hadn’t so courageous when losing his life had never really mattered that much to him. He’d never been afraid of death. True courage was facing what you feared and persevering in spite of it. Did he have that type of courage? Could he risk being stabbed where it would hurt the most to gain what he’d wanted most of his life?

 

He stared into the dark eyes reflected in the mirror, trying to read the answers. Whatever direction he was going to take, he had to take the first step today. Stepping across the room to his dresser, he slid open a seldom used drawer. Could he do this? He ran his finger along the delicate item. Would they understand the significance? If they didn’t, could he bear it? Well, he would know today. Time to get it over with.

 

 

 

Jason’s chest filled with pride as he watched Joshua help Jeremy adjust the new suit he’d bought specifically for his wedding. Josh and Jason also wore new suits, crisp white shirts and meticulously knotted ties. All three Bolts were crammed into the tiny back room of the church and the wedding was only minutes away.

 

“You g-g-g-got the r-ring?” Jeremy asked Josh, who would be acting as his best man.

 

“Right here.” Josh held out the object in question then carefully tucked it back into his inside jacket pocket. “Calm down.”

 

“L-l-look at me,” Jeremy spread out his hands, grinning self-consciously. “I’m shaking like a w-w-w-wet dog.”

 

Jason poured a glass of water and held it out to his brother. “Scared?”

 

Considering, Jeremy’s grin widened. “No. Not scared. I’m just so excited I feel like I’m gonna bust right out of this new suit.”

 

Jason let out a burst of laughter. “Well, you better wait until after the wedding for that.”

 

“I don’t think Candy would appreciate it if you came out with a busted suit.” Joshua added.

 

“No, I don’t think she would,” Jeremy returned his laughter, then his expression turned serious. “Jason, I’ve waited so long for this. I just want it to be perfect.”

 

Bracketing his brother’s shoulders with his big hands, Jason smiled into Jeremy’s eyes. “This is your day. You and Candy. A day to celebrate your love and the beginning of your lives together. What could be more perfect than that. Relax and enjoy it.”

 

Jeremy pulled him into an embrace. “Thanks, Jason.”

 

Holding out his arm, Jason invited Joshua into the family circle. They held on for a long moment, then broke apart, each a little misty-eyed.

 

Two taps on the door and Reverend Adams poked his head inside. “Are we ready, gentlemen?”

 

“I’ve been ready for two years,” Jeremy grinned.

 

The reverend cleared his throat with a slight blush. “Well…I’m sure…Jason, I think it’s about time you go collect the bride.”

 

“I’m on my way, Reverend.” He gave Jeremy a quick one-armed embrace. “Relax. It’ll be just a few more minutes.”

 

Jeremy pushed him toward the door. “Hurry back.”

 

To get to the steps where Candy was waiting, Jason had to pass through the church proper. The church was overflowing with almost the entire town packed inside. Uncle Duncan sat in the front row, reserving space for Jason and Lottie to sit during the ceremony. Across the aisle and a row back Aaron sat.  He met Jason’s glance with a stony expression on his face but a burning in his eyes. Jason’s stride faltered.

 

Since Thompson’s departure, Jason had been filled with a sense of quiet waiting. Having made his declaration of intent, Joshua seemed to have made progress on accepting Aaron. But Jason still had no idea where Aaron stood or which direction he would turn. The millowner had been sociable enough during the evening they’d spent together but he hadn’t spoken at all about their family situation. Jason had been hard-pressed, but he’d somehow managed to heed Lottie’s advice and not push Aaron. Now he wished he had. Not knowing what Aaron might do today wasn’t easy on his peace of mind. He hoped the little surprise he’d planned for later in the evening would turn the man in the right direction.

 

With a wink at Uncle Duncan and a solemn nod to Aaron, Jason continued on his journey. Just as he exited, he spotted Candy daintily making her way across the street, Lottie and Biddie holding up her skirts to keep them out of the mud.

 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a lovelier bride,” he called with all sincerity.

 

“Oh, Jason.” Candy fanned a hand in front of her face to cool her flush.

 

“You _are_ beautiful.” Lottie adjusted the flow of Candy’s wedding dress as she mounted the steps.

 

“Oh, yes, indeedy,” Biddie gushed. “You put everyone else to shame.”

 

Grinning, Jason leaned in to whisper in Biddie’s ear. “And the maid of honor is a vision of perfection.” Flattery it may have been, but true all the same. With her hair curled and piled high on her head, the color of her dress a perfect compliment to the color of her eyes and a flush of excitement on her face, Biddy approached true beauty.

 

“Oh,” Biddie giggled. “Oh, my.”

 

“Well, ladies…and gentleman,” Lottie started shooing motions. “Shall we get this show on the road? I’m sure there’s a groom in there just dying for the first glimpse of his bride.”

 

“Then I say we shall. Lottie, Uncle Duncan has a place save for you in the front row. You can tell Essie to start the music.”

 

With a final hug and kiss to the bride, Lottie headed inside. As soon as she disappeared, Candy clutched Jason’s arm. He could feel the trembling even through his suit jacket. He laid his own hand on top of hers.

 

“Everything will be exactly as you’ve always dreamed. You have my word.”

 

“I hope so,” she whispered. “Is Mr. Stempel inside?”

 

“Oh, Candy, you don’t really think he’d do anything to ruin your wedding?” Jason kept his voice confident although he had his own misgivings in that direction.

 

“Oh, Mr. Stempel wouldn’t do anything to hurt you,” Biddie defended. “Why, he didn’t even yell at me for what I said at the colonel’s party.”

 

 “Maybe not…oh, I don’t know…I’m just so nervous. I couldn’t stand it if anything went wrong today.”

 

“Nothing will go wrong,” Jason promised with his whole heart. “We’ll see to it.” He could hear the wheezy old organ begin the processional inside the church. “Now enough of this worrying. Let’s get you and my little brother married.”

 

 

 

Jeremy’s entire awareness centered on Candy when she entered the church. _She’s so beautiful. And in a few more minutes she’ll be my wife. My wife, lord, lord_. She kept her head down as she walked up the aisle on Jason’s arm _. Look at me. Please, Candy, look at me. I need to see that you want this as much as I do._ Just before they reached the altar, she lifted her head and looked directly into his eyes. And his heart almost stopped at her smile.

 

Automatically, he followed Reverend Adams’ low voiced instructions, never taking his eyes off his bride. Somehow he managed the correct responses though the reverend’s words were only a distant droning. He knew all the words; they were written in his heart.

 

He felt like he was living a moment from a fairy tale. The princess and the knight who journeyed to a far-away land to win her hand. His princess who saw beyond his shyness and stutter to the man he wanted to be inside. He would be her knight and protector and anything else she needed him to be.

 

Together they stood before the reverend with entwined hands, forming a circle of two. He knew Candy could feel his sweaty palms but that was all right. He could feel the tremor in his slender hands. Tears streaked down her cheeks, but he could hear no hesitation or regret as she repeated her vows to him. His own words came out strong and confident without a hint of a stutter.

 

“With the power vested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife,” Reverend Adams intoned. “You may kiss the bride.”

 

_My wife! My lord, she’s my wife now!!_ Equal awe shone from Candy’s eyes. A gentle tug pulled her into his arms. Salty tears flavored her lips as he claimed them for his own. Her sweet response warmed him. A hand stole up her back, savoring the softness of her dress. She reciprocated, her hand snaking around the back of his neck.

 

A discreet cough reminded them they weren’t alone. With a blush and a giggle, Candy broke the delicious contact. Jeremy shuffled his feet but nothing could have stopped the wide grin from spreading across his face.

 

Reverend Adams turned them to face the congregation. “May I present Mr. and Mrs. Jeremy Bolt.”

 

A spontaneous cheer rose from the logger’s in the congregation.

 

“Well, Mrs. Bolt, shall we make our way to our reception?”

 

“Yes, Mr. Bolt, I think that’s exactly what we should do.”

 

Before they could even get halfway to the door, two groups of men converged on them. Before he could find the words to protest, Jeremy found himself hoisted onto the shoulders of several burly loggers. A glance told him Candy was received a similar treatment, though the men were being much more gentle with her.

 

“Hey, be careful with my wife,” Jeremy shouted, laughter spilling into his voice.

 

“We won’t muss a hair on her head,” Harve assured him. “We just want to make sure you don’t get them purty clothes all dirty before you get to the reception.”

 

“And we want to make sure you actually make it over there,” Josh added. “We won’t want you two to not find the place and wandering off somewhere alone.”

 

“Oh, no, we can’t have that,” all the other men agreed.

 

With much shouting and bumping, the crowd carried the newlywed couple to the party waiting to happen.

 

 

 

Aaron stood unobtrusively in the corner of the dormitory closest to the refreshment table. For hours he’d been waiting to present his gift. But every time the newlywed couple were together and he started toward them, someone always whisked one or the other of them away before he could complete his journey. He was beginning to wonder if a person could die of frustration.

 

Of course, he could just leave the box on the table with all the other wedding gifts. No, that just wouldn’t do. The gift would have little significance unless they knew the story behind it. He would just have to wait until the right opportunity presented itself. But, Lord, it was killing him. He’d worked up the nerve to do this and now it seemed like the whole town was conspiring against him.

 

Curiosity tinged glances passed over him as people helped themselves to the refreshments. He supposed he did look a bit odd, standing there silently with a wooden box clutched against his hip. Some glances held more than curiosity. Rancor filled some eyes; whether the hostility was caused by the knowledge of his heritage or the loss of the government contract he didn’t know nor did he care. Let them hate him. He’d used hate before to drive him to higher achievement.

 

Now! He started across the floor, urgency speeding his feet. Jeremy and Candy were finally together, flushed from a lively jig around the dance floor. _Please, just stay put until I get there. I don’t think I can take much more of this._

A commotion at the door interrupted his passage. Oh, Lord, he moaned inaudibly, what now?

 

“Well, if I’d known you were throwing a party for me, I would have come sooner,” the big man in an army officer’s uniform exclaimed. Standing just inside the doorway, he beamed at the crowd.

 

“Oh, it’s not for you,” Biddie tittered. “This is a wedding reception for Jeremy and Candy. But if we’d known you were coming we could have thrown a party for you. Whoever you are.”

 

Abandoning his quest for the moment, Aaron strode across the room to the new arrival. Jason reached the newcomer at the same instant.

 

“How do you do…” Aaron’s eyes widened as he glanced down at the man’s insignia. “General?”

 

“General Ashland,” the man extended his hand. “And you might be?”

 

“Aaron Stempel. And this is Jason Bolt.”

 

Jason took the general’s hand in a hearty handshake, his expression as bewildered as Aaron felt. “Good evening, General.”

 

“Bolt and Stempel.” Ashland chuckled. “Fine, fine, just the men I wanted to talk to. But there should be three more Bolts included in this conversation. It would be my guess that Duncan, Joshua and Jeremy Bolt are also somewhere in this crowd of fine-looking revelers.”

 

“Yes, they are.” Jason turned to wave his uncle and brothers closer. “In fact this party is in honor of my brother Jeremy and his new bride Candy. They were married just hours ago.”

 

“Splendid. Just splendid,” General Ashland’s voice echoed through the room. “I think the news I bear will be a splendid wedding present for them.”

 

Aaron exchanged a charged glance with Jason. Could this possibly be about the contract?

 

“Ah you must be Duncan Bolt.” The general greeted Duncan with an energetic thump on the shoulder. The two men were close to the same age and size. In fact, if the general had a beard they could have been mistaken for family. “Even thought we’d only corresponded by telegraph I feel as if I know you already.”

 

“Uncle Duncan.” Jason turned his uncle toward him. “Do you know what this is about?”

 

“Aye,” Duncan answered warily. “I know the subject of the visit but nae the conclusion.”

 

“Well, I won’t keep you fine gentlemen in suspense much longer. It seems Mr. Bolt here sent a series of telegrams to my office. By the way, I am in charge of the administration of all the lumber contracts in the area. I may not have paid those telegrams much heed but, you see, the officer in question had already raised enough suspicion that an investigation was in progress.”

 

“Thompson,” Jason said the name with enough venom to surprise Aaron.

 

The good humor faded from the general’s face. “Yes, Amos Thompson. It seems he had quite a little enterprise set up for himself. An enterprise where contracts were awarded on the basis of how much money the owner was willing to kick back to Thompson rather than the basis of which was the best business.”

 

“Damn,” Jeremy exclaimed.

 

“And Duncan Bolt’s information helped us to finally get enough proof to remove the man’s rank and position.”

 

“Double damn,” Joshua stepped closer. “Does this mean…”

 

“Exactly, gentlemen,” Ashland grinned. “The contract will go where it should have gone in the first place. To BridalVeil Mountain Logging and Stempel’s mill.”

 

 

 

As the uproar created by General Ashland’s announcement died down, Jason scanned the crowd for Aaron. Ever since the party began, Aaron had been acting most peculiar. The millowner had never been the life of a party but neither had he ever hid himself in a corner speaking only when dragged into a conversation. Then there was the matter of the wooden box Aaron had been clutching all night. He had been stalking Jeremy and Candy the entire evening. Jason decided it was time to put him out of his misery.

 

He intercepted the newlyweds just as they quit the dance floor, flushed and out of breath. “Jeremy, Candy, why don’t you two sit down for a second and I’ll get you something to drink.”

 

Candy fanned her face with her hand. “Oh, thank you, something to drink would be so nice.”

 

“Thanks, Jason.”

 

“Now you two just sit there and don’t move till I get back.”

 

Jason quickly headed toward the refreshment table, which just happened to be where Aaron had been hovering. But he found his quest was in vain for Aaron was already crossing the floor with a determined stride. Jason changed course to follow him.

 

Aaron may have been determined to corner the new bride and groom but once he was in front of them he faltered. “Ah…Jeremy…Candy…uh...”

 

“Mr. Stempel,” Candy nodded her head in wary greeting. Jason winced a little at her choice of names. Rather formal for a new brother-in-law.

 

Jason tried to help him get started. “So, Aaron, aren’t you going to congratulate the bride and groom?”

 

“Well…yes…” Aaron stumbled. “That’s why I…Aw, hell.” Suddenly he thrust out the box he’d been holding all evening. “This is for you. Wedding present.”

 

Candy recoiled as if the box might hold a rattlesnake. Jeremy took it gingerly, sending a quick glance asking for reassurance toward Jason. Jason nodded somehow sure this would turn out all right. Stepping closer, Jason bent to get a better look at this gift.

 

Fashioned from sturdy oak, the box itself had been solidly made, the corners flush and square. Its age was apparent, the edges worn smooth by handling. With a little effort, Jeremy wiggled the top free. They all leaned forward to see the contents.

 

The figure inside the box had been carved with meticulous attention to detail. Jason could almost imagine if he touched the bear’s coat it would be fur under his fingers. Each tooth could be counted.

 

“The bear is the totem of my mother’s clan. “ Aaron began to explain in a tight voice. “He is to represent that the lodge in which he resides will be granted his protection. The baskets of seeds on his back symbolize that the family will never know hunger.”

 

“And the cubs at his feet.”

 

Aaron flushed a little. “That the lodge will be blessed with many children.”

 

“It's beautiful, Mr. Stempel, but…”

 

“The tradition says that the….damn, I can’t remember what the name of it is…anyway the carving is given to the bride by one of the groom’s male relatives. But Jo…my…our father didn’t have any family in America when he married my mother. So he made this himself. My mother never let it out of her sight until…she died.”

 

“Our father made this?” Jeremy whispered, a catch in his voice

 

Jason felt a little misty-eyed himself. Many a night their father had relaxed in front of the fireplace, carving a toy that would eventually end in the pocket of one of the few children in the area. If they would have known how quickly they were going to lose him, perhaps they would have saved his carvings as keepsakes. But they hadn’t known and now they had few things they could say, this was my father’s.

 

“Are you sure? I mean, it belonged to your mother. Shouldn’t you keep it for your own wedding?”

 

“I still have a few other things that belonged to her. And I think she’d like it that it was given in accordance to tradition.”

 

Jason sucked in a sudden breath. By tradition the gift was given by one of the groom’s family. And Aaron was giving it in accordance to tradition.

 

“Oh,” Candy patted at the tears beginning to drip down her cheeks. “Oh, its that…its just so…oh, thank you, Mr…Aaron.”

 

On her feet before Aaron could dodge, Candy wrapped her arms around his neck. Arms lifting hesitantly, Aaron shot a helpless look at Jason. Jason shook his head with a sigh at the man’s cluelessness. He made a pushing gesture. Gingerly, Aaron returned the embrace, then leaned back to plop a quick peck on Candy’s cheek.

 

“Congratulations,” he whispered. “May you have many happy years together.”

 

Jeremy rose, extending his hand. “Thank you, Aaron, we’ll always treasure your present. Both for itself and the tradition in which it was given.”

 

 

 

Leaning back in his chair, Jason watched as the party slowly wound down. The bride and groom had sneaked out more than an hour ago. Most of the remaining guests stumbled around the room in varying degrees of drunkenness. Pleasantly intoxicated himself, Jason grinned with contentment. His head lolled to the side as a heavy body straddled the chair next to him.

 

“’Lo, Aaron.”

 

“Bolt.” The millowner looked pleased with himself, as well as more than a little drunk. “Nice party.”

 

“Yup,” Jason agreed. “Beautiful wedding, nice party, wonderful gifts.”

 

“You mean the contract?”

 

“That, too.”

 

Flushing, Aaron stared at the hands crossed over the back of the chair. “That was just…ya know…somethin’ I had ‘round the house.”

 

“Sure, Aaron.” Jason nodded agreeably. “It had nothing to do with all of us being family now.”

 

“Course not.”

 

“Certainly not.”  Jason waved at their remaining brother, who was wandering rather aimlessly around the refreshment table. “Joshua, come over and join us. And bring some more of the good punch.”

 

With a goofy grin, Josh filled three glasses with the well spiked punch and meandered in their direction.

 

“I think your brother’s had too much to drink,” Aaron boomed.

 

“I’m your brother too.” Josh’s grin didn’t diminish an iota. “And I’m no drunker than you are.”

 

Aaron blinked owlishly at Jason. “Am I drunk?”

 

“Yes, you are. So am I. But you’re supposed to get drunk when your baby brother gets married. It’s tradition.”

 

“And tradition is a wonderful thing.” Josh whapped Aaron on the back hard enough to rock him forward.

 

Aaron gave Josh a jaundiced eye before settling back. After handing out the full glasses, Josh settled himself in a chair on the other side of Aaron. Each of them took a long swallow of the fruity punch which had been laced with some of Lottie’s finest whiskey. And each let out a soft sound of appreciation.

 

Aaron rested his chin on the forearms crossed over the back of his chair. “Bolt, about your mountain…”

 

Both of the Bolt brothers froze in place.  “It would seem right…” Jason sighed, trying to think of the right way this should be settled.  He didn’t want any new battles when they seemed to be settling into a better relationship.  But the thought of losing any of the mountain…

 

Aaron reached over and slapped the back of Jason’s curly head.  “Get that long look off your face.  I don’t want that mountain any more.  Don’t need it.  That game’s over.”  He shot Jason a slightly out of focus glare.  “But I hope you Bolts don’t start thinking all this brotherly mush is going to be an every day occurrence.”

 

For all of his hopeful optimism, Jason knew this wasn’t the end of their conflict but only the first step in the right direction. At least now, all of the participants acknowledged the same basic truth. Battles would be fought in the future, wrong turns taken, steps retraced as each of them defined their own place in the family. But a family it would be, Jason would make sure of it.

 

“What would be the fun in that?” Jason grinned. “If I couldn’t rub your fur the wrong way, I would be bereft.”

 

“Right,” Aaron nodded decisively. “We have to be rivals. It’s a Seattle tradition.”

 

“Speaking of tradition…” Jason wheeled around and pulled out a gift box he’d hidden under the table hours ago. “I have a present for you.”

 

“For me?” Aaron scowled. “Why?”

 

“Call it a ‘welcome to the family’ present.”

 

His scowl deepening, Aaron made no move to take the present. “That ain’t no tradition!”

 

Joshua whapped him again. “Don’t be a wet blanket, Aaron. Just take it!”

 

Jason watched as suspicion and curiosity warred on Aaron’s face.  If he’d been a little less drunk suspicion might have won, but alcohol and the pervasion joy of the day tipped the scale.

 

“All right, just give it here.”

 

As Aaron opened the gift, Jason had a moment of trepidation. What if Aaron didn’t understand? What if he was offended? Difficulties Jason should have considered before now plagued him. Had he destroyed the fragile beginning they’d made today?

 

Blank confusion filled Aaron’s eyes as he peered into the small box. “What the hell?”

 

Peering over Aaron’s shoulder, Josh looked just as confused. “Jason?”

 

Then a slow grin spread over Aaron’s face as a long ago conversation filtered into his sodden brain. The grin grew until it became a chuckle and the chuckle became full voiced laughter. Soon he was laughing so hard, tears filled his dark eyes. Jason breathed a great sigh of relief.

 

“Jason, I still don’t get it.” Josh complained.

 

“Well, I once told Aaron I wouldn’t sell him controlling interest in one pine cone off our mountain.” Jason tried to explain, now fighting off his own giggles.

 

“Oh, Jason,” the blond brother joined into the laughter as he began to understand. “You didn’t.”

 

“I did.” Jason plucked the gift from the giggling millowner’s hand, displaying the pine cone which had been painstakingly painted gold. “Now Aaron has not only controlling interest, he owns the whole damn pine cone.”

 

THE END


End file.
